


As Long As We're Going Down

by chaoticgoodlawyer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Breathplay, Daddy Kink, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Human Names Used, I don't even know the names for these kinks anymore, I needed a place to dump my angst, Light BDSM, M/M, Mafia AU, Marathon Sex, Matthew centric, Multi, No adultery, Non-Binary France, Other, POV Canada (usually), Polyamory, Praise Kink, Rimming, Self-Indulgent, Trans Spain, but that last isn't Matthew he just indulges it, mature version posted on ff.net, there will be so many kinks y'all know me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 57,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11323857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticgoodlawyer/pseuds/chaoticgoodlawyer
Summary: It's been three unrelenting years of blood, death, and control. When the opportunity arises for Matthew to remind himself what it is to be human, he takes it. The consequences of his indulgence will change the shape of power in Europe's criminal underworld. In a world set atop a powder keg, Matthew will find himself holding the match and making a choice between love and survival.





	1. Prologue: Right Hand

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a shitty day. Have a new story (I swear I'll update Don't Get Cut soon). This fic is entirely self-indulgent.
> 
> This will be the explicit version. If you want to skip most of the sex to come, the mature version is on ff.net (see my profile).
> 
> If you don't know me, a lot of my stories are inspired by music I like to share with people. This story was inspired by the song "Dark Doo Wop" by MS MR and that is also where the title came from. The song for this chapter is "Monster (Acoustic Version)" by Ruelle.

They hated him.

It wasn't simply resentment, envy, or a healthy amount of fear. No, Matthew was surrounded by people who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire, who would happily put a bullet in his gut and watch him die a slow death.

He knew this well and took proper precautions. He had a personal guard that was unconnected to anyone he worked with and he had personally vetted them. He had done his best to erase his past from every electronic and paper database. He, of course, had an acceptable if unassuming public persona, but everyone did in this business. He had even erased his name.

Only Lovino Vargas knew and he could keep a secret. In normal conversation, Lovino referred to him as the name he had assumed years ago, Ghost. He was nothing, no one. He was a dead man that hell itself had kicked out, had been living as little more than a menacing creature in the dark for nearly seven years. They called him a monster, a demon Lovino had sold his soul to for all he had gained. They were half right.

If something needed to be done, he was called by his title, Right Hand. He was second in command to the heir of the Vargas crime family in Italy. If someone needed to be leaned on, if a shipment was late, if any upstart was eager to make a name, he was sent and the situation was dealt with. When Lovino Vargas called for his Right Hand, people within ear shot tensed and had a thrill of fear go through them. When the baby Boss called for his Right Hand, it usually meant someone was going to bleed.

Even when he let himself to get drunk, Lovino only called him an affectionate "bastard." Matthew allowed it because Lovino was his oldest and only friend. He owed him more than his life and he paid him back with a loyalty that made his world itself tremble.

He only called him by his given name once in the past seven years since he had risen to his position and it was because Matthew had needed to hear it. Lovino, even with all the schemes in his head and bodies on the ground, saw the moment that Matthew would have unraveled, lost his sense of self completely. They had been alone but for the dead (the only good kind of enemy) and he had breathed it into the air. He had pulled Matthew back from the abyss and that was the second he knew the decision to tie his life to Lovino's had not been folly. From then on, he stopped trying to erase his past and started living with it. He rarely thought of himself as simply "Ghost" anymore, which was progress.

Lovino was the only person who could count on him and everyone knew it. It meant that, if there was a plot to kill Lovino, they had to plan to take out Matthew, too. Because if Lovino was killed for someone else's ambition…

Matthew would burn the world to ash and salt what survived his fury.

So they hated him. Matthew just saw it as the truth it was and guarded his back like the devil herself was at his heels. Because the people who hated him were not his rivals, but his co-workers. The Family had a difficult time understanding how Lovino had promoted a blond, blue eyed American (he was Canadian but they could assume what they liked) above his own family members, above people who had been in the organization for decades. They had stopped questioning his place by his friend's side after the first faction had stepped a little too far out of line and disappeared, their assets suddenly in the wind.

The Family didn't question his power, but there constant whispers of his imagined past. _How did this pasty-ass white boy become the most ruthless dog in the Vargas Family?_

Good question.

* * *

**_Nine Years Ago_ **

After all that he had done to scratch out this merge existence beyond subsistence, fighting impossible odds every damn day just to survive, Matthew might have finally found the one thing that would break him.

Alfred was dead.

Early that afternoon, he'd gotten a call from the administration, asking him to come to the assistant dean's office as soon as possible. Matthew, expecting that perhaps the school had finally figured out who exactly they'd paid to be a student at their oh-so-pristine institution, had planned his exit strategy by the time he walked into the room. All his plans crumbled when he saw a man in the dress blues of the marines stand upon his arrival, when he stopped being aware of the doors and windows, too focused on the folded up American flag in the man's gloved hands.

The words he had spoken then were, "There's no body."

The assistant dean was prattling something about mental health services and grief counseling, but the soldier clearly recognized the blank look in Matthew's eyes, the coldness of his expression and the natural stance his body had fallen into. "No," was all he said.

Matthew nodded and flicked his eyes to the cloth in the man's hands. He said, voice flat and as close as he had ever come to revealing what he truly was at school, "Keep the kindling."

He'd walked out, mind blank even as it subconsciously assessed every structure and person he passed. He walked out of the schools gates and turned north, further into the city. People usually looked past him on the street. Now, they glanced at him and looked away quickly. New Yorkers were good like that, at leaving people to their public privacy. So, he walked.

Alfred was dead.

He and Alfred had been orphaned at 10, twin boys with duel American and Canadian citizenship who were thrown into the American foster care system. Their mother had died due to complications of childbirth in Canada and their father had committed suicide after being told he was being investigated for fraud. Creditors took whatever fortune they had inherited and foster care…had been rough. Up until that point, they never had to fight for anything. But they were fast learners. Matthew was grateful to his father for the two lessons he had taught them: how to think and to rely on no one but each other.

Because the stupid system had fucked up their registration and given them two different last names instead of the hyphenated one they were both given at birth, they had to fight to stay together. It had helped that they were nearly identical in appearance but not much. The longest they had lived without the other was four months. Matthew had been with a family with twelve foster kids and had learned the value of fading into the background. Alfred had been in a worse situation, with physically and verbally abusive parents. By the time he was finally pulled out and the abusers were let off with only a warning, he had learned the value of taking a stand. Alfred came out of it wanting to be a hero and knowing that to do it, you had to get your hands dirty. Matthew came out of it with a keen sense of survival and an ability to read people that would save his life. The next time they were together, he suggested they run away. They had been fifteen.

On the streets, they learned harder lessons: what it meant to go without eating, how to hide bruises, how to make money under the table, how to avoid the cops at any and all costs. Matthew was perfect at identifying weakness in people, in understanding how interpersonal dynamics worked and how to best destabilize a system. Alfred was a genius at actually _breaking_ people, of coming up with plans and strategies on the fly. They each shared with each other all they knew. It was a miracle they didn't have a rap sheet a mile long by the time they managed to afford a shitty apartment in a forgotten part of the city. They were almost seventeen then, and finally had to face the question of what they were going to do beyond tomorrow.

Matthew, disillusioned with the system but not knowing how to escape it, decided to get his GED and work his ass off to get a full ride into university. Alfred, who came to love the city and country with a devotion that Matthew could never understand, wanted to join the military at eighteen. He had joked about being part of something bigger and protecting freedom, but Matthew knew that a large part of it was the shelter, three meals a day, and steady pay. The military offered Alfred a home. Matthew just saw it as a cage.

So Matthew had filled out application fee waivers and applied to schools and as many scholarships as he thought he had a shot at. He studied university websites in the public library, looking between the words on the admission's site for how to become exactly what the schools wanted. Then he penned a sanitized version of his story that kept out the abuse and the crime and the blood on his hands for an awe-inspiring personal statement. Alfred got his GED just for something to do as he waited for their eighteenth birthday. Then he was at basic training within a matter of months.

The last time Matthew had seen him, Alfred was proudly wearing his camos, posture perfect and precise. He had smile on his face, eyes sparkling in a way Matthew hadn't seen for years as he babbled excitedly about his unit and how they were all friends and _God, Mattie, but I wish you could meet them!_

That had been a year and a half ago. They had written and Matthew could almost hear the cynicism creeping into his brother's words as time went on. He would talk about the people around him less and less, as more and more of them died and were replaced. The last letter he sent was about being pulled into some kind of special training. _Must of died in a training accident_ , Matthew thought to himself. Then he started laughing because that was just too cliché to be his life.

But it was.

Because Alfred was dead.

It was quiet.

Matthew blinked, senses coming fully back online after being numbed by his shock and oh, he should not be here.

He was being watched. It was to be expected when he wanders into territory disputed by several fractions in the city. At least, it had been disputed when he had started school two years earlier. He'd been complacent and it might get him killed.

He kept his head down and kept walking, heading to the closest main street. His damn feet had put him on a side street and it was not as well-lit as was safe for someone who didn't belong to anyone. He wasn't even armed besides the pair of knives he kept on him like a security blanket and they would do jack shit if he was confronted with a gun.

Alfred liked guns.

Alfred _had_ liked guns. He didn't anymore because he was dead and the dead don't like or care about shit.

Just like that, Matthew was angry.

He was also surrounded.

A voice called out in the dark, mocking and vicious in its heart-wrenchingly familiar Haitian-Creole, " _Now what's a nice college boy like this doing on our side of town?"_

He could speak the language well enough after his time on the street, but the bastardized Quebecois accent made it sound muddled in his mouth. So, rather than butcher the language, he answered in English, tone respectful but not cowed, mind spinning as he calculated his odds, "Blinded by grief. My brother is dead and I wandered where I shouldn't be. No disrespect meant."

" _Do you think we pity you?"_

"No. I just answered your question." He shouldn't have said that. He should have left his answer simple and he knew it as figures emerged from the shadows. Matthew halted, vowing to himself that, if he survived this, he wouldn't be this careless again. But since he already made the mistake and honestly was a little beyond giving a shit about what happened, he continued. "What do you want from me? I have little money, no jewelry or worthy identity to steal. My phone is disposable. If I go missing, I assure you my school photograph is endearing enough to cause the police to want to blame someone. If you're looking for a fight," a small smile fit on his mouth, "then all I can say is you may get more than what you were expecting."

He shifted easily into a loose stance, not the technically perfect one he learned as a kid, but the one he adapted on the street to survive. The people around him seemed to hesitate, looking past his unassuming face to glimpse at the monster he had kept leashed for three years. Now that it was needed, he slipped back into this hunter's mindset as easily as a well-worn glove. He was showing that this fight may cost more than what any of the Haitians were thinking to gain, but he knew the odds. Five on one, if the scuffs he'd heard were right and his invigorated instincts weren't failing him. Matthew wouldn't survive if they came at him with knives, but he could take a few of them out. If they had guns, he was already dead.

They probably had guns.

"I don't think that will be necessary," came a confident, amused voice that was vaguely familiar from Matthew's 7 o'clock. There was an accent to the English, but it wasn't Haitian. A possible ally then, making the odds much more in his favor. But Matthew didn't know this person, didn't know if they were a threat and kept his eyes towards the shadows where the first voice had emerged.

There was a moment of silence that felt stunned as they all waited for the first voice to speak again. Eventually it emerged in rolling English, "He's with the Italians."

"He is now." A person started walking from his 7 o'clock, a guy if he guessed the tenor correctly but it was a voice that could go either way. The gait was confident and Matthew didn't relax as a boy about his age came to stand next to him, just out of Matthew's reach. He'd chanced a look at him and it took every ounce of control to not let his surprise show on his face.

It was Lovino Vargas. As in the same Lovino Vargas that sat in the back row with him in criminal psychology. Matthew usually did a threat assessment of people whenever he walked into a room and Vargas had been the only person to raise flags the first day of the semester. He had been dressed in clothes that subtly whispered wealth, perfectly coiffed hair but for a stray curl that licked to the side and eyes that shifted between whiskey brown and olive in the light. He'd been handsome and from money, like a number of his classmates, but he'd had an air about him that said he knew where all the exits were, what your weaknesses were, and how best to destroy you…if you knew what you were looking for and Matthew did. But he had never expected this.

How could he have guessed that the sullen, dangerous boy in his psych class was somehow positioned well enough in the mafia to be recognized on sight alone by members of rival organizations? Sure, he had picked up over the years that the Vargas' Family branch in New York was not to be fucked with, but thousands of people had to have that last name. What were the odds?

Still, Matthew relaxed and tilted his head in deference to him, recognizing he'd saved his ass. He so was not stupid enough to refuse the offered assistance. Vargas smiled sharply at the gesture, something like triumph in his hazel eyes and the remaining figures melted back into the shadows.

Vargas didn't say anything to him as they walked to the end of the block and into a black town car that pulled up at the curb. Matthew waited until they were alone in the car before he looked at Vargas and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Vargas smiled at him and shook his head. "What the fuck were you doing, walking around like that? Challenging the Haitians in their own territory?"

Matthew shrugged. "Wasn't actually thinking about it…You followed me."

"Yeah. You're usually aware of yourself but I got a call that something had gone wrong and you were headed into a hot zone."

Matthew blinked at him. He wasn't just followed today, but he was being _followed_. Apparently had been watched for some time. "Why?"

Vargas' eyes sharpened and his posture shifted from relaxed relief to sharp readiness. Matthew didn't bother tensing. If Vargas wanted him dead, he would have left him on that street. If he changed his mind and Matthew was still in the car, nothing he could do would stop him (or his family if he somehow managed to one-up him). Vargas smiled wide and dangerous as he took in Matthew. "Because you aren't surprised or intimidated at who I am. Because you have the face of an angel but the neutral eyes of a tiger. Because you don't irritate me like damn near everyone else I've come across. Because you seem listless and I need an ally who's outside the Family. Because neither of us have any friends and I think we can change that."

Matthew sat quietly as he processed the information. At length, he said, "So tonight is not a favor to be repaid later?"

"Tonight is an offer of friendship." The words were heavy with meaning and Matthew understood that it was also an invitation into a life that he hadn't been born into. Even before Alfred's death, he'd felt adrift at school, excelling in his classes because he had nothing else to do with his time, disconnected from his classmates because of his life experiences. The thought of a life of crime didn't bother him in the least, which perhaps would be concerning. But he had no real goals of his own, no family, no connections. This could be the purpose he started college to find. Especially with Alfred gone…he had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Matthew smiled at Vargas—Lovino. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Lovino."

He laughed. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." Matthew offered his hand and they shook.

Lovino shook his head but relaxed again. "We have a lot to talk about. First, my condolences if what you said about your brother is true…"

Matthew's jaw tightened but he didn't look away from him. "It is. Killed in action, my guess."

Lovino eyed him critically. "What do you need?"

Matthew thought about it. He thought about his past and present and had no idea what the hell would be his future. Maybe Matthew Williams didn't have a future. Maybe…it would be better that way, if Matthew Williams died with Alfred Jones. "I need to disappear, to erase this mess I've become."

"Literally or figuratively?"

"Why not both?"

Lovino studied him and Matthew did look away then. They were supposed to be friends now, but that relationship was minutes old. He wasn't ready for Lovino to see whatever emotions were on his face. After a moment he said, "Okay. I'll need a couple things from you, but I can make that happen."

Matthew looked back at him, astonished because he had _never_ in his life asked for something then have someone actually offer to make that happen. "What things?"

"One: graduate with me. We need legitimate enough credentials to get into certain circles. Two: actually be my friend. Hang out with me and shit or whatever friends do. I haven't had one that wasn't paid to be there so I wouldn't know what's usually required."

Matthew smiled then, "Me neither. Or, at least, not since I was ten and not with anyone who wasn't—"

The silence following that choked cut off thought was deafening. Maybe this wasn't the time to make a decision like this. Oh, wait, Matthew didn't care.

"…Three: you have to learn Italian. As in pick up the major as soon as possible. I'm only here for university; I go back to Italy in two years."

Matthew forced his lips to curl. "Done. So…what do you like to do in your free time?"

Lovino laughed again and answered.

* * *

**_Present_ **

Matthew was hated because the person he had become was a wild card. Ghost (the word spoken in English rather than the Italian _fantasma_ ) was a mysterious, murderous loose cannon that would not hesitate to follow Lovino's—and _only_ Lovino's—orders. He had helped turn just another mafia prince into the most well-entrenched and feared member of the generation. He made sure Lovino had choices in what he specialized in because he had no choice when it came to his profession. He had no other weak points; he had no family to threaten, no civilian friends to kidnap, and (because of his personal preferences and limitations) took no lovers when he was in the country. Hell, he didn't even need glasses anymore thanks to Lovino's insistence on surgery before they'd left the States. He didn't smoke, only occasionally drank. It made people think he was sanctimonious, but Matthew was neither religious nor inclined to give a fuck. He was who he was. The only person's approval he needed gave it unconditionally.

It wasn't the intention Matthew had when he had taken Lovino's hand that day so many years ago, but the Italian filled the role of the brother he had lost with startling ease. He wasn't sure if what they had was love, but it was probably as close as he would ever get. He was Lovino's protector, confidant, friend, and enforcer. He was his Right Hand.

That was what he was doing now, sitting behind and to the right of Lovino's chair as he held informal court with his captains over drinks. He rarely spoke at these things, sitting away from the fray with his back to the wall, eyes watchful. He was immaculately dressed in a suit that cost more than he and Alfred had scraped together in a year on the street, courtesy of Lovino's insistence on maintaining appearances. Matthew thought that even their tailor hated him—it wasn't easy to craft a suit that could lie over body armor and a myriad of weapons and still look stylish. He only ever wore black-on-black; it was the best color for hiding blood stains.

Lovino's chosen specially was dealing in information, knowing everything about everyone and how best to use it against them. If someone in the Family needed to know how to approach something, they came to him. His own position afforded him some safeguards. People knew that if he suddenly disappeared, that a lot of their life-ruining secrets would be in the open. With Lovino alive and active, they were secure. It made smart people less likely to try to assassinate him and gave them a vested interest in Lovino's survival.

Most people, however, were idiots.

That was where Matthew came in. He and his network of contacts kept careful eyes on everything, wary of anyone thinking past their capacity and trying to go after Lovino directly. A lot of bullshit got stopped before it could even get off the ground because of him. If it didn't, well. Things happened. People died.

Matthew was the only general Lovino had and it made people dread reporting to him. It wasn't that he was rude or unpleasant, but he made no effort to charm or appease people within the organization itself. He wasn't interested in playing that game and the Family disliked dealing such an obvious outsider in what was supposed to be an inner sanctum of their organization.

Lovino's only equal in the Family hierarchy was his brother, Feliciano. He loved his older brother and happily followed his example. The younger man was their arms dealer, ruled that little corner of hell, and looked even more innocent at first glance than Matthew. It made people underestimate him, which was one of their biggest mistakes. Once, an ambitious cousin tried to convince Feliciano to kill his brother to take his place and power, thinking he would be easier to manipulate than Lovino.

They never did find all of him.

The door opened and Matthew's second walked in. Dressed in a black pantsuit and frankly threatening stilettos, Alicia was the first person Matthew considered a personal project. He didn't have many moral lines he wouldn't cross, but slavery was one of them. He made his position clear his first year in Italy, taking a risk to go in and systematically dismantle a sex trafficking ring in Florence. It had taken time that made Lovino twitchy, but the night he wiped it from the face of the earth, showing everyone just who the young Vargas had brought back with him from America, a teenage girl had watched him slaughter everyone in his path, black hair a mess but utterly unflinching. When he'd attempted to leave her for the police to find, she had followed him, saying with a strong voice and dead eyes that she owed him a life debt. He'd almost turned her down, but he had remembered the night he'd almost let himself be killed in the streets of New York. He knew what it was like to not have a purpose after something traumatic, though he had no idea what she had survived. He took her with him. Only Lovino knew her whole story, knew how Matthew had chosen his own prodigy to train and lead. Now, for hand to hand combat, the only one who could beat her was Matthew. Her true skills rested in knife work. She gave her loyalty to Matthew like Matthew gave his to Lovino and he trusted her with his life.

Only the grunts thought that she was his lover. In truth, she was a lesbian and encouraged the rumors about the two of them. As fucked as it was, if she was seen as belonging to Matthew it left her in a position to be mostly free of sexual harassment, though the younger set had stopped getting handsy with her when the last guy walked away missing a hand.

This was a room full of men and women savvy enough to lead in a criminal family. No one blinked as Alicia approached him with a manila envelope in hand, though some eyed them warily. Alicia had given him a daily report in his office hours ago. For her to come into the setting with information that had to be urgent, it was a red letter day.

She handed him the envelope and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "The invitation we've been expecting." Alicia touched his shoulder lightly, having some idea of how concerned he had been over receiving such a thing. It would have been untoward from anyone else, but he was the only person she touched like this, like it was casual and natural. Once she had learned to deal with her trauma in a productive if questionably healthy way, she was open and affectionate once her guard was down and it was hard to turn off once she trusted you. Matthew didn't protest though no one else had leave for even this briefest of touches except Lovino. It kept up the illusion there was something more than loyalty and a shared past between them. They weren't quite friends, the disparity in their power levels evident in a way it wasn't between him and Lovino in private. (Lovino never actually treated him as a subordinate unless it was for the pageantry of Family; anything else would have led to questions about what Matthew was to him and possibly war.) The only person he would burn the world for was Lovino, but that didn't mean the stars themselves wouldn't shudder if something happened to his second.

This was the problem of trusting so few people in their business; you tend to get attached. It was a damn good thing Alicia and Lovino could take care of themselves or Matthew might have gone grey with worry already.

Matthew simply nodded his thanks and dismissal to Alicia. Used to his countenance, she turned and stalked out the room without further ado.

Before the door had closed behind her, Matthew reached into the envelope and pulled out thick cardstock. He was no Sherlock Holmes, but he knew expensive stationary when he saw it. The calligraphy, no doubt inked by hand, was simple but elegant curling lines of black, inviting Lovino Vargas and his Right Hand to a meeting in neutral territory to discuss recent skirmishes between the lower levels of their groups and to a masked ball that followed. With their desired security, of course. The back was blank.

The neutral location? Monaco, with a temporary truce called between all attendees.

The hosts? The Horsemen.

It's not that he wasn't on some level relieved the invitation had come. Talking about skirmishes before they became territory disputes and all out wars was ideal. Additionally, word was being passed through appropriate channels that this party was happening and the up-and-coming of the criminal world were all invited to one place to build trade deals and end disputes. This was either the greatest idea or it would lead to everyone being arrested or killed. There was a reason their business was conducted in the dark, after all.

God, but he was not looking forward to this. On one hand, the libido he kept on the shortest leash possible had looked up in unquenchable interest in getting out of Italy and the chance to fucking _indulge_ for once. On the other, he would be in a city full of criminal royalty. His face wasn't well known, but it still wouldn't be completely safe. He wouldn't even consider it but it had been three years since he'd had a social orgasm. No matter how easy it was to ignore this occasional need at home, he couldn't ignore it forever. It was past time and he knew it.

More importantly, he didn't know what to expect with the Horsemen. They were relatively new, rising in the past five years with a shockingly expansive network of contacts throughout the world, but their strongholds were in Western and Central Europe. He'd tried to gather what information he could, but their identities were closely guarded behind more firewalls and back channels than even his hackers could get through. Here's what he did know.

The group was led by the Four Horsemen, each going by a moniker that matched their area of expertise.

Famine was based in France, dealing vice with the expert hand of a hardened libertine. Luxury and pleasure enough to die for was their coin and they traded it liberally. What couldn't be bought with pleasure (or a deprivation of it) could be handled through blackmail.

Pestilence controlled drug production, transport, and distribution. As Matthew understood it, they also dabbled in terrifying chemical weapons, but preferred making sure those seeking a particular chemical got what they were looking for. They were based in Iberia, though he couldn't confirm which country.

War was a mercenary turned arms dealer, Feliciano's equivalent but apparently he looked and lived up to his name. War was the only one he had a confirmed gender for, a deep masculine laugh sounding before a deafening boom on a recording sending a thrill of interest down Matthew's spine when he had heard it. He controlled Central Europe with a ruthlessness that had an informant literally shaking, damn near begging to be put on a different assignment. (Matthew ordered them elsewhere; they did good work and there was no reason to break them as of yet. Plus, if you granted a few requests here and there, people were more likely to be loyal to you.)

Death was the most mysterious, with the least amount of information available about them. The best _guess_ was that Death was based in the UK or Ireland, but that was mostly due to continued silence of the more historic groups in those countries. He could only confirm somewhere in northern Europe. Apparently they were not only an information broker, but also ran a somewhat legitimate security firm, with backing from several different organizations and governments. Death was the tipping point that made this group of four not only a possible threat but Matthew's number one concern outside of Italy.

If as many power players as he thought were going to be at this party, then he was not the only one with a wary eye on the new group.

Lovino would want to go. He liked to get a feel for situations in person, a character trait that was going to give Matthew a heart attack one of these days. Beyond that, he _needed_ to go. The heir apparent to the Vargas Family couldn't not show up. Not only would it be a sign of weakness to every hungry group ( _Maybe they don't feel safe outside their territory? Maybe the territory is unstable enough that Vargas couldn't leave for a weekend?_ ), but it would be a snub that they honestly couldn't afford to give to the Horsemen. One of the greatest strengths of being in a position of power was recognizing the limitations of your reach. Ambition is good, but blind ambition will get you killed. Anyone who didn't learn that early on didn't last.

Matthew debated giving Lovino the invitation now or in private, not entirely sure how much notice he wanted to give the others about his leaving. They only had a month to get everything in order. Lovino made the decision for him.

"Ghost, is that what I think it is?"

Wordlessly, Matthew stood and closed the distance between them. He offered the invitation to him almost absently, his main gun hand loose and ready at his side. He didn't think a threat was eminent from the people in this room per se, but it never hurt to be ready. Lovino hummed and Matthew knew without looking at him he was grinning. "We're going. Do what we need to get there a couple days early."

Matthew simply took the invitation back and settled once more in his seat, face impassive but internally sighing. He'd known that this was coming, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

He glanced down at the invitation, allowing a small glower before putting back in the envelope. Trepidation flooded him for a moment but he pushed it away to begin planning their trip with half a mind. Matthew had a lot to do to get them and their security out of their territory without fucking things up or offending someone they couldn't just kill. And Lovino would probably want to meet with a couple other groups while he was there and those were negotiations that usually took _months_ and…

Matthew allowed himself a small sigh. He had a bad feeling about this.


	2. Chapter 1: Twenty-Four Hours

Matthew tipped the bellhop on her way out and focused on Lovino, waiting for his orders. His friend had been annoying tight lipped about why they were arriving in Monaco a full day and a half before he had scheduled any meetings. It made him nervous and pushed him further over the edge of control that he had been teetering on precariously for the past month.

Between the delicate negotiations he had been orchestrating, the level of detail he paid attention to in getting them prepared not only to travel but also to attend a formal masquerade ( _who’s bright idea_ was _that?)_ , the security concerns he had to address despite the truce called between all attending organizations…Matthew was at his rope’s end. And it was a _very_ long rope.

He had done his best to keep the strain from affecting how he worked, but he was pretty sure he failed. No one died but when he had lost his temper and verbally snapped at a mid-level grunt for stirring up trouble with a rival family over a romantic affair, everyone started treating him with kid gloves. Even Alicia stopped touching him casually after he’d tensed one too many times at the contact. He _needed_ to find a few hours at some point this weekend to just _let go_ , or people would start paying for his temper with more than fear. But he couldn’t plan when those hours would be until Lovino _told him_ what he was planning.

At the moment, his brother-in-arms was staring out of the window and into Monaco’s darkening sky. The room itself was luxurious in a way that was generically elegant; everything screamed money but none of it was garish. It was one of the most exclusive hotels in the city, though not _the_ most expensive because they could only spend so much money and not draw unnecessary attention to themselves. Matthew had learned how to walk the line between respectably wealthy and embarrassingly nouveau riche years ago. He waited silently for him to speak for a moment before realizing it was just them and letting himself relax a fraction. “Lovi.”

His friend turned with a smile to him. “Ghost?”

“What do you need me to do?” There was always something to be done, always a scheme going in his friend’s mind, strings to pull, influence to gain. It made life fascinating but it was also the reason he had gone three years without a vacation.

“I’m giving you a gift.” When Matthew just stared at him, too bone-weary to play along, Lovino shook his head. “A long overdue one. The next twenty-four hours are yours to do with as you please. You are to go off the grid. I don’t want to hear from you in any capacity but that of your friend until 19:00 tomorrow.”

Matthew blinked at him. He had _never_ had that much time to himself since he’d become Ghost. Not. Once. All of his plans for security called for him being on call if not on hand. The times when he had let himself go had only been when he was out of the country on assignment without Lovino. Even taking a few hours with him in the city left him uneasy. “But security—“

“Can go one day without you looking over their shoulders. Hell, they’ll probably cry from relief when I tell them you’re going to be unavailable for a bit. Not to mention I can handle myself. I am technically your boss, you know.” Matthew continued to stare at him, unconvinced. “Look, things are a lot safer for me now than they were at the beginning. We’re not upstarts anymore, Ghost. We’re established and respected. You starting to take some time for yourself after seven years would be a sign of that. More importantly,” Lovino stepped closer to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine—“

“Bullshit. You think I didn’t notice my Right Hand losing his patience? Or how quick to anger you’ve been for the past six months? The past few weeks have been bad, but it wasn’t out of nowhere. This is more than you scaring the shit out of everyone; this is you falling apart at the seams.”

With Matthew was still shaking his head, Lovino sighed. “Making me pull out the big guns…fine.” Lovino grabbed his face in both hands and looked him in the eyes. His words barely disturbed the air as he breathed, “Matthew, when was the last time you let yourself be you?”

Matthew flinched hard at the use of his name, recoiling but Lovino’s hands held him firm. He swallowed audibly, but managed to answer him, “Havana. Three years ago.”

“And for how long?”

“Four hours.”

Lovino sighed, releasing his head and dropping his hands. “Was that also the last time you got laid?” Matthew stayed quiet, which was answer enough. “Ghost, you can’t go that long without the touch of another human being. For the love of God, how are you even functioning?”

“I’ve been busy, Lovi. You know that,” Matthew said, exhaustion in his voice. Lovino was too right for him to deny it any longer. “There hasn’t been a good or safe enough time for me to leave Italy just for a fuck.”

“But it’s not just sex to you, Ghost. It’s the only time you let yourself be human and not some boogeyman. It’s how you remind yourself who you are under the blood and gore and fuck, how are you still _sane?_ I thought you had taken time for yourself for so many weekends…what the hell have you been doing in your free time?”

Lovino wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t known that he was gay in Italy and the aura of mystery to his sex life added to his myth. But the real reason he had never dared to take a lover in the country was _how_ he had sex. He simply couldn’t fuck as anything or anyone but Matthew. Not even Mateo Vargas, his legal name on all his official documents issued after he met Lovino, but Matthew Williams. If word had ever gotten back to _any_ Family in Italy who he was under the terrifying exterior that he had painstakingly created, so much of his and Lovino’s safety would be compromised. His threat was nearly perfect, the name of Ghost stopping plots before they even began against Lovino. People learning who he could be would shatter that. It made it easier to find a lover that was completely discrete abroad, and much less stressful. People wanted Ghost dead; no one cared about hunting Matthew. “Making plans, establishing contacts, forging networks. You know, my job.”

“You’re telling me you’ve been working every day for the past three years? ‘Cause that’s fucking unacceptable.”

Matthew shrugged. “Do you want me to lie?”

Lovino didn’t scream, but the noise in frustration he made was near enough. “I am so pissed at you, I can barely see straight. You _have_ to take care of yourself, Ghost!”

“I have been.” He maintained a usually strict schedule of eating, exercising, and sleeping. His body was a weapon and he made sure it was always in top form so it wouldn’t fail him when he needed it the most.

“Relaxation is part of—you know what? Get out. This is cutting into time you need. If I didn’t need you at negotiations, you would have the whole weekend off. We are _talking about this_ later, though. This will not happen again, do you understand me?”

“Yes, boss.” Matthew demurred and turned to leave, thoroughly dismissed.

Something was heading towards him fast and he didn’t think, just reacted. He shifted to the side quickly as a pillow flew past where he had been standing. He looked back at Lovino with raised eyebrows. “I’m not your fucking _boss_ today. I’m your worried, pissed off friend. And tomorrow we are going to day drink and you’re going to tell me about breaking your long fast. Now _leave_.”

Matthew shook his head, but gave him a smile so genuine it felt misplaced on his face. “See ya, Lovi.”

He heard Lovino grouse _fucking bastard_ under his breath as he walked out and faced the security in the hall. They all startled, some even flinching, at the relaxed expression on his face. Maybe he had done more damage with his moods than he thought. Only one person seemed relieved at his smile and that was Alicia. He took in the dark circles under her eyes, the subtle weariness in her posture and his smile faded. She worked when he did, except that he forced her to take at least one day a week off. If there was anyone else he trusted to watch his back while he did this, he would tell her to take a day for herself as well. As it was…he would give her next week off.

He said, tone unyielding, “Report directly to the boss tonight, or Ric.” Ricardo was Lovino’s head of security and one of the few Matthew trusted to watch his friend’s back when he couldn’t do it himself. “There’s been a change in plans. Alicia, with me.”

He turned to his assigned room, across the hall from Lovino’s, and Alicia opened the door for him before proceeding to do a quick check of the room to make sure it was clear. It was like she hadn’t been in here only minutes earlier seeing to his bag and making sure the room wasn’t bugged, but he appreciated her thoroughness; it was why she was his second. When she was done, she turned to him, big eyes assessing and ready for anything. “What’s the plan?”

He smiled sheepishly at her and she blinked at him. He trusted her with this part of him, though he had never told her his entire story or his name. While he was in Havana she had been his eyes and ears in Italy. The time before that, he didn’t trust her as much. Maybe it was time. He said, “I need your help. It’s something I would only trust you or Lovino with.”

“Anything.” She said and he knew she meant it.

“I need you to make me harmless.”

“…What?”

* * *

The music in the club was going to give Matthew a headache if he stayed for long. He knew that the moment he entered the upscale establishment. Alicia was by his side, really just moral support as he braved stepping back into the ever evolving and confounding arena that was finding a partner for the night. She had done her best to make sure he looked less like the monster who would eat bad little mobsters if they misbehaved and more like a man looking for a good time. She’d swept his hair up into a messy bun and dressed him down to expensive black jeans, a blue button-up, and boots. Alicia had pursed her lips when he’d vetoed the body armor and most of his weapons, but he was carrying a gun at his back, concealed by a black leather jacket, and several knives. After he’d gotten out of the shower, she’d slathered his lips in balm and did something to his eyes to make the blue of them pop without it being clear he had on make-up.

He’d checked himself out in the mirror before leaving and could admit he looked acceptable enough. The jeans fell over the boots in a relaxed way but showed off his thighs and ass without it looking like they were a size too small. The shirt did nothing to hide just how in-shape he was but left enough mystery to make interested parties want to see more. The color made his eyes stand out in almost startling relief and he thought he might actually be able to get someone to bed him tonight.

There had been a change in guard by the time Matthew exited his room to meet Alicia in the lobby and they had been shocked speechless. A couple had been slack jawed. When he’d asked point blank if there was a problem, one of them (Alonzo) had stammered, “We’ve never seen you wear color, sir.” That was fair enough; Alicia had to run to the closest open store to get the shirt for him (she knew his measurements). He’d left them without further comment.

Now he surveyed the room for a place to perch and observe on instinct. Alicia, dressed in a backless purple dress that had people turning to stare, tugged at his jacket sleeve to get his attention and then tilted her head towards the bar. Right, he had to blend in. Getting a drink was the typical thing to do.

They walked towards the bar, Alicia no longer touching him. He weaved in the crowd, flowing through spaces like he was water, and quickly made it to the long bar. One of the four bartenders behind the counter acknowledged him as she layered colorful liqueurs on top of each other in a shot glass, meaning she would be with him in a moment.

“Boss,” Alicia started.

“What do you want to drink?” Matthew asked, looking at her.

“I’ll get my own but you need to tone it down.”

“What?” He asked a little louder, not quite hearing her. Italian came easily to him now, but if he couldn’t hear it clearly, then his brain had problems filling in the blanks. The bartender asked him what he wanted in French and he asked for a double of Macallan, neat. When he drank, he preferred scotch, and he didn’t want to have to come right back to the bar after finishing his drink in five minutes.

“Ghost.” He looked at Alicia and she seemed exasperated if fond.

“Yes?”

“You’re still acting like the boss. The way you walk, your demeanor, hell, even your drink order, it’s all far too dominant for what you told me you’re looking for. It’ll be hard to find someone with your…specifications.”

Matthew sighed, handing over his card to the woman. He always closed his tab after a drink, so if he needed to leave somewhere quickly he wouldn’t have to send someone back inside to get his credit card. “I like my drink.”

“I know, sir,” she said, patting him on the arm. “You shouldn’t change that, but you’re not clocking people as potential partners but potential threats. Were you aware of the people checking you out at you as we walked over? Or the three men currently staring at your ass and wondering if you go for men?”

Matthew shrugged, took care of the bill, and moved out of the way of the bar, letting Alicia go order her drink. He sipped from his scotch, enjoying the burn of it over his tongue and down his throat, and tried to silence the predator in his head. He let his eyes really take in more than the exits and statistics and odds in a fight and saw at least one man’s eyes flit away quickly when Matthew caught him staring. He probably needed to soften the stare as well…

Actually, no, he didn’t. He thought about what he wanted and how long it had been since anyone touched him. Matthew thought about what his body _craved_ , what would truly be an indulgence for him, and took the monster off of mute. He wanted a man who wasn’t intimidated by who or what he was. He wanted to be topped by someone who _could_ top him just as he was, who would notice the danger that seeped from him and be not only intrigued but _hungry_. That was the kind of man he wanted give himself to tonight. If he was here for a few hours and no one seemed up to the challenge, he would lower his standards and just aim for a quick release. It wouldn’t be as satisfying but it would do.

So Matthew didn’t try to lose the easy power in his stance, the expectation to be respected and obeyed at a word that was apparent in his every gesture after three years with no break. It was a part of him now and he wanted to find someone who could handle that. When Alicia turned back to him and saw that his edge had sharpened further rather than dulled, her brow furrowed but she didn’t try to call it to his attention again. He needed to give her a raise.

“You’re the expert. What’s the plan?”

“We are going to loiter around here and drink these.” She held up a glass that smelled strongly of gasoline, even in the already saturated air of the club. “Be seen. Then we’re going to separate and dance so people don’t think we’re together. I’ll watch out for you from a distance; text me when you’re leaving for the night.”

So they did.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Matthew was sitting at a small booth with his back to the wall, fresh drink in his hand and eyes scanning the room. This was a good vantage point, tucked away from most of the room and shadowed enough to hide its inhabitants as long as they weren’t at the end of the bench like he was. He needed a break from the crush of people dancing, not used to being touched or surrounded and not liking it at all. A few people had offered a dance but none of them had been what he was looking for and he didn’t like to waste his time. He _did_ like dancing by himself, however. It had been a long time since he just let himself feel and react to something as simple as music. The movement had helped him settle back into himself and perhaps this small pleasure he could allow himself while in Italy, surrounded by enemies. He had been too long without so many things, had let himself become little more than a machine, and the novelty of free movement drove home just how much things needed to change if he didn’t want to burn out. Hell, it was a miracle he was still functional at all.

Matthew felt someone’s stare and sought their gaze. Standing at the bar was a pale man with wide shoulders (black button down, _nice_ ) and hair that shone a strange shade of silver in the shifting lights of the club. There was an ease to his demeanor that spoke to confidence and security in himself. Even from a distance, he could see the man was handsome, almost brutally so, the lines of his face revealing dark eyes and unrelenting masculinity. He saw Matthew had caught him and instead of looking away at the coldness on his face, the man looked him up and down, eyes lingering not only on the fit of his clothes, but the slightest bulk of where he had weapons concealed on him. When the man met his eyes again and _smirked_ , Matthew felt a shot of interest go down his spine. He straightened and licked his lips. The man didn’t make a move towards him, just lifted his drink (a beer) to his lips, a silver band glinting on his left hand. Married, then, and wanting him to know it. Only wanted some fun. Discrete. Matthew smiled.

“Hey, handsome. You speak English?” greeted a young feminine voice and Matthew broke the silent exchange he’d been having with the man to turn to see two young women, both a little drunk. They were pretty in a young-reckless-carefree kind of way and they were so barking up the wrong tree for whatever they wanted. “You look like you could give us what we want.”

Matthew couldn’t help but smile a little at that, eyes going cold in a way that should have had them running in the opposite direction. “I doubt it.”

The one on the right visibly flinched from the look, immediately wary despite whatever her intoxication level was. She tugged at her friend’s arm insistently, apologizing for bothering him. She was a survivor. Her friend lacked the instinct and pouted at him. “Bet we could change your mind.”

“Ye can't, lass,” came a masculine, purring voice from a man all but appearing out of the shadows over Matthew’s shoulder. Even _he_ had not been aware of his approach and that was equal parts concerning and thrilling. “Ye lack wha'  _he_ wants.”

The survivor paled at the sight of the new comer and even her less aware friend seemed to get the message that they needed to leave. They melted back into the crowded dance floor and the man stepped into Matthew’s field of vision and _Jesus,_ no wonder they had gone at the sight of him.

He was intimidatingly beautiful. His high, sharp cheekbones gave his face a fae-like edge that was at once delicate and deadly. The straight lines of his nose and jaw only added to the near other-worldly beauty of him. _And his eyes._ They were amused, dangerous green pools, set off by the dark red hair hanging carelessly over his forehead. Matthew never thought he had a thing for gingers but _goddamn._ A cupid bow mouth (with a full bottom lip that Matthew wanted to _bite_ ) quirked to the side as he watched Matthew take him in. His amusement deepened as Matthew unabashedly took in the long lines of his body, the hints of muscle discernable through the black, well-cut cloth, the weapons concealed unless you were looking hard and for them. When Matthew met his eyes again, he tilted his head a little to the side, coy smile on his face. “I didn’t need the help.”

“I know.” He placed a hand on the table, drawing Matthew’s gaze to the ring on his finger. _Figures he’s married,_ he thought. _Whoever managed to snag this one was_ not _letting go if the interior at all matched the package._ “Tha’ seat taken?” The man nodded to the space on the other side of Matthew, closer to the wall and despite the fact there was a perfectly good seat across from him or that he could slide around the circular booth to get there. Something told Matthew he didn’t want to suffer the indignity.

“Not yet. You want it?” He lifted his chin a little, exposing more of his neck in invitation, a silent explanation of what he was looking for. His answer was an offered hand. Matthew didn’t need help to stand, but he took it all the same. He stood mostly on his own power, noting the strength in this stranger’s hand. Then he was jerked forward enough that their bodies pressed against each other, each feeling the weapons they wore. The redhead smiled and lifted a hand to caress his jaw as he leaned down. Matthew met the offered kiss halfway, more than ready for it, free hand coming to rest on his side. He did his best not to fall apart as he put any skill he had acquired over the years into that kiss, as well as hint at the need he felt. He kissed back at first domineering then acquiescing, trying to convey what he wanted. The man made a sound that Matthew felt more than heard as his hand gripped the back of Matthew’s neck. He met Matthew’s tongue with his own. _God_ , it had been _so long_ since he’d been kissed like this—

It was too much and Matthew broke the kiss to breathe and collect himself, eyes wide as he stared up a little into the man’s face. Matthew was used to being the tallest person in the room back in Italy, so the act of looking up alone was a novelty. The stranger seemed startled by his response, though Matthew wasn’t sure why. What he said was, “I’m Matthew.”

“Alistair,” he answered, hand running down Matthew’s back, deliberately missing the gun at the base of his spine.

Matthew grinned at him, the chemicals rushing through his brain at that one kiss alone making the smile natural. “The seat’s yours if you want it.”

“I do.” Alistair kissed him again then slid into the seat, pulling Matthew in with him. He couldn’t help glancing back to where the first man to catch his eye had been, but he had moved and wasn’t immediately visible. He let it go and focused on Alistair. The man was too knowing and lethal in how he moved to not be here for the same reason Matthew was, probably from some far corner of Europe or maybe working in the British Isles. Not Italy, which was his only requirement right now.

“You’re…Scottish?” He asked, remembering watching old James Bond films and the original Star Trek as a kid.

Alistair smiled a little at him. “Got it in one. Most guess Irish. An’ yer…American?”

Matthew sighed, but it was good natured. “Canadian, actually. _Everyone_ guesses American.”

Alistair leaned close to him and whispered in his ear, “Sorry ta disappoint, then.”

He put a hand on his thigh and Matthew was going to spontaneously combust. “I-it’s fine.”

“Ye seem sensitive,” he said, hand squeezing his leg a little and Matthew shivered.

“It’s been a while. Since I last…went out.” _Since anyone last touched me. Since I let myself feel this._ He put his hand on top of Alistair’s, stopping the slow journey up his thigh it had been making. He was half-hard already and that was a little too telling.

“Ye don't mean wha’ I think, yeah?”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking.” Hell, he barely knew what _he_ was thinking, let alone Alistair.

“How long has it been since someone touched ye, Matthew?” The use of his name, spoken in that intimate tone made his breath catch and he couldn’t help himself from spilling this harmless truth.

“Three years.” Alistair seemed to freeze at that, the breath that had been pushing at Matthew’s neck with every exhale stalling. Matthew turned his head to stare at him, finding a blank look on his face. “Is that a problem?”

Alistair’s eyes snapped back into focus, reading the hesitance in Matthew’s expression and he growled out, “ _Come here_.” His hands were insistent and lifting on Matthew’s hips, the surprising strength of him making rationality fly out of Matthew’s head. He straddled Alistair’s lap, leaning down to kiss him again because the taste of him on his tongue was fading and he needed it to remain. He kissed him like the world was going to end and Alistair’s hands squeezed his ass possessively, pulling Matthew’s hips against him. The action made him cry out, fully hard and too desperate to be ashamed now. Alistair groaned, “ _How_ has no one touched ye fer tha’ long? Feckin’ criminal, tha’ is.”

Matthew smiled against his lips. “Par for the course for people like us, then.”

Alistair gave a startled bark of laughter, hands moving down the outside of his thighs now. “Oh, I _like_ ye.”

“You should be flattered,” came a voice from the head of their table, forcing Matthew to once again notice his surroundings. _Shit_ , but he had really let himself go for a moment there. The man who spoke was the same one he had seen at the bar, bigger up close and built like a warrior of old, the kind of physique to inspire epic poets. He indeed had silver hair but his eyes were not a dark brown like he had suspected from a distance, but crimson. His nose had been broken and healed a little off, humanizing the nearly perfect face. There was a small patch of shinny skin on the right side of his jaw, a scar from something, but it only succeeded in making him more dangerously alluring. He had an amused smirk on his face, eyes dancing with laughter. “He likes very few people.”

“Matthew,” Alistair said, leaning back against the seat, hands still on his legs. “This is me husband, Gilbert. Gilly, this is Matthew.”

Oh.

Alrighty then.

Matthew blinked at the man who sat beside them and offered a hand, smiling. For lack of a better thing to say, he tried, “Nice to meet you, Gilbert”

The smirk widened. “Likewise.” He had an accent that sounded like German, but Matthew wasn’t sure. He hadn’t heard a lot of German-accented English. He took Matthew’s hand but raised it to his lips and _fuck_ , was this real life? “Call me Gil.”

Matthew was too thrown to keep himself from saying, “Mattie.” He froze then, trying to get control of himself. No one called him Mattie, not even Lovino since they came to Italy. He was too far—

“Well, Mattie,” Gilbert started and Matthew’s heart stuttered in his chest. He’d fucked up and fucked up bad because he wanted to hear these two strangers say that name. He wanted that piece of himself back, a piece he thought left behind with his brother’s corpse somewhere, if only for a night. “We were looking for someone to share our bed tonight. Are you interested or do we have to try and find someone else?”

“No,” Alistair said, hands tightening on Matthew. “It’s him tonight or no one.”

Gilbert lifted an eyebrow at Alistair as Matthew said, “Yes. I want this.” He grabbed the front of Gilbert’s shirt in one hand and pulled him into a kiss. He wouldn’t have been able to move the man without his consent and Gilbert kissed him like he was on board with the idea. He was more aggressive than Alistair, not waiting for Matthew to give ground before taking what he wanted and _fuck,_ that was perfect. And Gilbert? He wanted _everything._

Matthew pulled away, heavy lidded and dazed. Alistair, who was starting to get hard beneath him, said, _“Gorgeous._ ” He was helpless to do anything but watch as the couple kissed each other. The touch was as heated as it was playful, the men familiar enough with each other to make a game out of the movements of their mouths. It was enthralling and Matthew wasn’t sure he was going to survive this night if this was just a taste of what was to come.

When they eventually separated, lips almost reluctant to part, Matthew asked, “I’m not dreaming, right? This is real?”

They both looked at him, bemused. “As real as anything is.” Gilbert said.

“Then what dark god do I thank for this?” He kissed Gilbert again, hand running down Alistair’s chest.

Alistair laughed lowly. “Think of it as a reward fer yer patience. Gilly, guess how long Mattie’s gone without bein’ touched.” His hands were back to kneading his ass and Matthew was going to lose it, just strip in the middle of this club and beg one of them to fuck him, if they didn’t get out of here soon.

“Hmm.” Gilbert pulled back and looked Matthew over. “Two, three months on the outside.”

Matthew blushed and cursed himself for it. “Ah, no.”

Gilbert frowned. “Six months.” Matthew cringed. “Come on, Matthew, look at you. How could you go longer than that? You’re beautiful, likable, adventurous, and fucking sexy. You love being touched if what I’ve seen so far is any indication. It can’t have been longer than that.”

His face was _burning_. “I was busy? Working?”

“Try three _years_ , Gilly. _Three_.” Alistair said before leaning in and nipping at Matthew’s neck. That area was particularly sensitive and Matthew’s eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of teeth there, embarrassment forgotten.

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” he murmured, thinking the sound would be lost in the crash and ramble of the club. Matthew ran a hand through Alistair’s hair, showing him he liked the attention, and looked at Gilbert who seemed floored. Alistair bit him then and sucked on the spot and Matthew moaned. It had been _so long_ since he’d been marked and it was definitely something he missed. To think how these two men could mark him…

“We need to get out of here before we take this too far,” Gilbert said quickly, hands rubbing his thighs.

Alistair pulled away from Matthew’s neck and said, “Agreed. Mattie, wha’ do ye want ta do? Wha’ do ye want us ta do tonight?”

Well, since they asked…”I need you to fuck me.” Both of them jolted at the words and, if they were willing to indulge him, he would have the courage to ask for what he wanted. He closed his eyes and let his mouth say what he needed. “It’s been three years since anyone touched me or kissed me or held me down. It’s been three long years, and another year before that, without someone inside me and I _need it_. I need to feel it tomorrow, and next week, and next month because I don’t know when I’ll be able to feel it again. So I don’t care if you take turns or one of you watches or _whatever,_ but I need someone to fuck me through the floor and take away my control for the night.” He opened his eyes find them staring at him, hunger on their faces. “Is that okay?”

They shared a long look and Alistair said, “I think we can help ye out.”

* * *

The only detail about their hotel room that Matthew noted was that the space was in one of the expensive accommodations that boasted soundproofed rooms. Beyond that, his senses were ruled by the heat in his veins, the brush of Gilbert’s tongue in his mouth, and the _maddening_ feeling of the man’s hands on his ass and leg, carrying him into the room with ease. Sure, Matthew was wrapped around him and holding on, but he was a big man made of solid muscle. The fact that Gilbert could _carry him_ for any distance, that he could actually manhandle him if he wanted, was so arousing he damn near didn’t know what to do with himself.

What his brain managed to come up with was that they were wearing too many clothes and weapons for this to go the way he wanted.  He pulled away gasping as Gilbert set him on the edge of an already turned down bed and said, “I’m wearing too much. The weapons—“

Gilbert kissed him again, stealing his words, even as his hands found the knives in his pockets. A second set of hands on him had him shaking as Alistair traced his back and the top of his pants. He removed the gun (still in the holster) and the belt that carried a concealed a garrote. His jacket was dropped somewhere by the door, so he only had the knife in his boot left. Gilbert somehow knew the gun was gone and laid him back against the mattress.  Matthew tried to be productive and worked the buttons of Gilbert’s shirt open, revealing what felt like a band of sheathed dart knives around his middle. Interesting, but he wanted skin, not steel. He made a frustrated noise into Gilbert’s mouth. When the other man gave him enough room to speak, he groused, hand running along the top of the band, “ _Off!”_

Gilbert chuckled darkly and straightened, allowing the button up to slip off his arms and hands going behind his back to take the weapons off. His laugh sent a spike of awareness down Matthew’s spine. “You know, you’re the first one to find me wearing this and not hesitate? Even Scottie did that first time.” The words had Matthew’s eyes seeking Alistair. They didn’t have to go far.

As Gilbert removed the band and set it to the side, Alistair appeared at his back, kissing his cheek. He started working Gilbert’s undershirt over his head, giving Matthew a slow reveal of a muscled, scarred torso as he said, “Well, _excuse me_ fer bein’ wary. Not many people can use those, love.”

The shirt was off as Gilbert said, “You can now.” They kissed and Matthew watched, unable to turn his eyes away.

Alistair’s hands pulled at the fastening of Gilbert’s pants as he pulled away and looked at Matthew, resting his chin on Gilbert’s shoulder. “Yer over-dressed, Mattie. Strip fer us.” Alistair’s arms were bare, so he probably wasn’t wearing a shirt either.

He couldn’t do anything about his shoes or pants with Gilbert still standing between his legs, but he started by taking down his hair, shoulder length strands that he knew fell in shinny waves to his shoulders. Then he made quick work of the buttons of his shirt, sitting up to shrug out of the garment. Then he laid back down and made a show of arching his back to get the undershirt off. He had a few scars on him, including one or two that had previous lover immediately questioning what happened, but he wasn’t worried about that with these two. Gilbert looked like he had survived several warzones; Matthew’s couple of scars would be nothing to him or his husband.

After he worked the shirt off of his head and tossed it to side, he looked back at them and found both men starting at him intently, taking in his newly-revealed skin. It gave him the confidence to bite his lip and undo the button-fly of his jeans. Gilbert and Alistair moved back to give him room to work, still watching him. Matthew left his jeans open to reveal his black boxer briefs and leaned down to get his boots and socks off. When he tossed them away, knife and all, he reclined back on the bed and lifted his hips to work the jeans off of him.

Then Alistair was above him, kissing his mouth once before tearing both his underwear and jeans off of his legs and throwing them somewhere into the room. The sudden force of it caught Matthew’s breath as he took in Alistair. Unlike his husband’s near-intimidating musculature, Alistair was leanly strong, more built for speed and stealth. Gilbert had the kind of build that would allow him competency in both areas, but Alistair looked like he’d been designed to slip between shadows. Both he and Gilbert were still wearing pants (even though Gilbert’s were undone) while Matthew lay bare before them. A thrill went through him at the disparity.

Alistair stared at him as he ran a proprietary hands down his sides. Matthew clinched his hands into the sheets, finding he wanted permission to touch him before doing it, as Alistair’s touch drifted to his hips and to the outside of this thighs. When he reached Matthew’s knees, he gripped them only to pull them up and apart, sliding Matthew closer to the edge of the bed even as it exposed him. The action embarrassed him even as it caused his breath to turn harsh. He threw an arm over his eyes but made no further move to hide himself.

“Look at ye, Mattie,” Alistair said coming to lean back over him after a moment, kissing down his neck as a hand trailed a slow path up his inner thigh. “So feckin’ beautiful.” He shivered at the praise and lowered his arm, pleased that he wasn’t found wanting, that Alistair still desired him after seeing him.

“May I touch you?” he asked, not knowing whether he would prefer to be told no, furthering the control they had over him, or yes, for the sheer knowledge of what Alistair felt like under his hands. Alistair paused at the question, eyes rolling up to meet his and hand stopping about three inches shy of where Matthew needed it. Alistair stared at him like he was reading an open book and Matthew looked away, lowered his eyes.

“So good of ye ta ask, baby. Ye can touch me.” Alistair said before biting down on his chest just a little, the shock of the pain with the praise making Matthew arch into him.

“Thank you.” Matthew breathed, hands immediately coming up to learn Alistair’s back and shoulders.

“Thank ye, _what?_ ”

 _Oh, God, I’m not going to survive this_. “T-thank you, sir.”

Alistair grinned at him sharply, eyes filling with a certainty that Matthew knew meant he was in for a hell of a night. “Oh, I _do_ like ye.”

“You’re monopolizing him.” Gilbert said, as he climbed on the bed and kissed Matthew before he could see if he still had on clothes. Matthew kissed him back, body alight with so much pleasure that he was having a difficult time controlling the sounds he made. Gilbert’s hands, rougher on his skin than Alistair’s, traced along his chest as Alistair started to kiss his stomach. Alistair’s hands lightly grazed his balls in an obvious tease and Matthew couldn’t stop the slight lifting of his hips or the scream that rose in his throat. He managed to choke that off at least.

Gilbert released his mouth and Matthew opened his eyes to find him staring down his body, at the mess of it Alistair was making. His eyes saw their chance to take in Gilbert’s nudity, all the muscles and grace and… _holy shit,_ he was hung. Like, Matthew’s dick was proportional to his body, if a little longer, but Gilbert… He caught Matthew staring at him and smirked. “You don’t need to be as formal with me. You can touch me all you want, Matthew.” At that, he reached out to touch him, fingers tracing the nearest scar, a jagged thing that spoke of torn flesh and was white with age. Alistair stopped his teasing then and gripped his dick before sliding his hand up and down. Matthew cried out then immediately slapped his hand over his mouth. Gilbert took that wrist and raised it above his head. “One thing you _won’t do_ , however,” Gilbert leaned down to demand lowly in his ear, “is stifle the sounds you make. I want to hear every whimper, shout, and scream we force from you.”

“Yes, sir.” Matthew said, distractedly. _How the fuck am I going to take him? It’s been_ three years! _I want to try but I actually might not manage that!_

Gilbert kissed his cheek and Alistair stopped touching him. Matthew whined at the loss of contact. Gilbert said, “You don’t have to call me that; Gil is fine, Mattie.”

“Ye sure ye don't want him ta call ye ‘daddy’?” Alistair said, tease evident in his voice and Matthew looked at him as he kicked out of his pants. Either he got rid of his underwear at once or he went without. Matthew didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when he saw that Alistair’s cock wasn’t as large as his husband’s, but it was near thing.

Gilbert groaned. “I mention that _once_ and you never let it go.” He looked at Matthew. “You don’t have to call me that.”

“Are you sure?” Matthew asked, making his eyes wide and innocent as he blinked up at him. He didn’t personally have that particular kink, but he was willing to oblige Gilbert. Besides, he _did_ like dominance games and what was ‘daddy’ but another title? “As long as you wouldn’t expect me to act like a child…” Matthew trailed off, smile on his face as Gilbert shook his head, clearly surprised.

“T-that’s not the appealing part for me. I just like taking care of my partners and there’s _nothing wrong with that_.” Gilbert said, throwing a glare at Alistair from where it sounded like he was digging through a suitcase. Gilbert ran a hand down the front of Matthew’s chest, absently petting him. “It’s best if you don’t use that name, Mattie. I’m not sure what I would do if you did.”

“Wanna find out?” Matthew sat up and leaned into him close enough that they shared the same air.

He waited for Gilbert’s slight nod and opened his mouth to speak when Alistair cut in with, “Wait a moment. I don't know what he’ll do, so put these on.” He held up a long line of condoms in one hand, the other holding a bottle of lube. Matthew smiled at him and held out a hand, letting his eyes roam over his body. He fought the urge to pinch himself to make sure this was actually real again. Alistair handed him the long line to tear one off for himself then climbed onto the bed. He kissed Gilbert as Matthew put his condom on, touching him with an easy knowledge.

Then he turned to Matthew and kissed him deeply, leaving him dazed. Alistair pecked short kisses along his jaw until he reached his ear and whispered, “I want ta see what he does, too.” Then he nipped at his ear and lightly pushed him towards Gilbert.

That wasn’t exactly comforting, but Matthew bit his lip as he crawled towards Gilbert again. When he was close enough to whisper against his lips, Matthew breathed, eyes open to watch his reaction, “Fuck me, daddy.”

It was like he’d hit him over the head with a sledgehammer, Gilbert’s brilliant red eyes immediately glazing. When nothing happened for a moment, Matthew lightly licked at his bottom lip, a small submissive gesture to see if he reacted.

He did. Gilbert’s eyes sharpened to a laser focus and he ran a hand through Matthew’s hair, gripping it just tightly enough so that Matthew knew that he wasn’t going anywhere Gilbert didn’t want him to go. Then he went to his knees, taking Matthew with him and pressing their bodies together. He damn near growled out, “ _Say that again.”_

Matthew ran his hands up Gilbert’s back and said, eyes heavy lidded, “ _Fuck me_ , daddy.”

Gilbert didn’t just kiss him. No, he conquered his mouth, his thumbs pressed to the back of Matthew’s jaw to keep his mouth open, tongue moving in and out like he owned it. In that moment, he did and Matthew moaned his surrender to him, shivered as he felt Gilbert’s dick twitch at the sound against his stomach. His nails clawed into Gilbert’s shoulders, anchoring him to the here and now, as he kissed him back as much as he was allowed. He breathed through his nose, but his head was getting a little light. The falling sensation only increased his enjoyment, but Gilbert released his hold on him. He took heaving breaths as Alistair came to kneel behind him, pressing kisses to his head as his hands moved between Matthew’s sides and Gilbert’s body and his hips told him how much he’d loved the view. Matthew leaned his head against Alistair’s shoulder, eyes closed as he took in the feeling of being pressed between the two hard bodies. He had missed more than kisses, social orgasms, and being fucked; he’d missed the touch of skin on skin for no gain but the pleasure of it.

The hand Gilbert had in his hair gently turned his head towards Alistair and they kissed. Alistair took from him just as much as Gilbert did, but it was in a slow, building way that had him shaking before he realized it, and much closer to coming than he wanted to be. He pushed back on Gilbert’s hold and he let him go. He turned his lips from Alistair’s and gasped out, “Wait, wait.”

Both Gilbert and Alistair stopped at that, hands stilling on him as they pulled their bodies away, giving him room if he wanted it. He didn’t, but he appreciated the offer, loved knowing that if he needed space they would give it. “I don’t want to stop, but I don’t want to come like this either.”

Gilbert raised his eyebrows at him and Alistair asked, pressing against him as his hand lightly squeezed Matthew’s dick, “Are ye close already?”

“Ah! _Yes_ , yes, wait, please—“ Alistair took his hand off of him and Matthew relaxed against him a bit, body screaming for release but relieved that he didn’t have to fight the pleasure any longer.

“How do you want to come then, Matthew?”

Gilbert was looking at him like he had _several_ opinions on the matter and wanted to try them all. He licked his lips and said quietly, “With one of you inside me.”

Alistair’s hands tightened on him and Gilbert shifted his gaze to his partner. A silent conversation seemed to ensue and Matthew used the few seconds to try to catch his breath. Even if he hadn’t gone so long without the touch of another body against his, this still probably would have been the most intense sexual experience of his life, and they hadn’t even really _begun_. It was overwhelming and wonderful.

“Baby, we’re gonna take turns fuckin’ ye, alright?” Alistair asked, lips moving lightly against Matthew’s cheek. “We’re goin’ ta get ye ready, then I’m gonna fuck ye so ye can take Gilly after. Tha’ sound good?”

Matthew shivered and turned a little towards Alistair so he could look into his eyes and said, “Yes, sir.” Matthew kissed him since his lips were right there and it seemed a shame not to.

Gilbert said, “You okay with traffic light safe words, Mattie? Green, yellow, red?”

Matthew stopped kissing Alistair and said, “Yes, daddy.” Just like that, Gilbert was touching him, moving him again like his weight was negligible and oh, Matthew had found a ticket to get just about anything he wanted from the man. He would have to decrease his use of it, to really only bring it out when he needed something. That was one thing that never lost its novelty in playing the submissive role in these games; sure there was the physical pleasure but also the fact that _he_ was the one who stopped them, _he_ was the one who could make this powerful, dangerous man lose control at a word, _he_ was the one with the complete focus of Gilbert and Alistair and _goddamn_ but it was perfect. Absolute perfection.

Gilbert removed him from Alistair’s arms and laid him on his back. Gilbert kissed down his neck, hands on his hips and ass, and said, “I don’t know if I would rather have you on your back or knees for this.”

“Back,” Alistair said, coming to his other side, lube and condoms in tow. “Hold yer knees apart and to yer chest, baby.”

Matthew blushed at the order but obeyed. Gilbert’s breath caught in his throat as he stared down at Matthew before looking at his husband. “You’re a genius. I love you.”

“I know.” Alistair said with a smirk.

“Nerd.” Matthew muttered, recognizing a Star Wars quote when he heard it. Alistair smiled at him and winked. It made Matthew grin at him and Gilbert made a distressed noise at the expression.

“You can’t be cute while doing this; it’s not fair, Mattie.” Matthew stuck his tongue out at him playfully and Gilbert saw it as an excuse to kiss him, laughing.

Matthew was smiling into the kiss when a wet touch against his entrance made him draw in a long breath, eyes flying open. Gilbert was staring down at him, taking in all his reactions as Alistair asked, “Ready?”

“Please.” Matthew begged. Alistair didn’t wait any longer, a finger pressing against him until his body gave into the pressure and allowed the intrusion. Matthew closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensation, to commit this feeling to memory. It was only one digit, but it had been so long since he had fingered himself that it felt like a special treat.

“ _Goddamn_ , yer tight, too tight. _Please_ tell me ye at least have touched yerself in the past three years.”

“I—“

“Open your eyes, Mattie.” Gilbert said. Matthew obeyed and watched Gilbert watch him. “Now answer his question.”

“I have. I just haven’t fingered myself in a while.”

“ _Why_?” Alistair demanded and began thrusting that one finger in and out of him in a maddening yet gentle pace. Matthew did his best to let the tension flow out of him, to force his body to relax, but it was hard. This touch alone was too arousing, the need building at the base of his spine too urgent.

“I-it wasn’t satisfying. I c-couldn’t reach far enough and it took time I didn’t have. Sir.” Alistair rewarded that tacked-on addition with pushing two fingers into him. Matthew cried out, neck arching and eyes closing. He didn’t have a great deal of leverage from this position but tried to encourage him by twitching his hips.

“Your eyes, Matthew,” Gilbert insisted, hand coming around to cradle his head, not quite gripping his hair but the possibility was there all the same. Matthew blinked at him, sounds coming unbidden from his mouth as Alistair stretched him. He wasn’t going to last long and—

Alistair found his prostate with sure fingers and the shot of pleasure made Matthew tense all over, a desperate shout escaping him as he fought the need to come then and there. Gilbert smirked at him and said, “There we go.”

“Wait, please, I’m too close, I can’t, I—“ Alistair just targeted the gland again and Matthew released his legs, one hand gripping the base of his cock hard enough to stop the orgasm that almost happened, the other holding on to Gilbert’s back.

Alistair paused his movements, Gilbert gaping down at him. “Did you just stop yourself from coming? After waiting _three years_?”

Matthew smiled a little, amused at his horror. “I _do_ touch myself regularly, you know, if only to keep from being distracted.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. _Why_ did I not just watch you come?”

Matthew licked his lips, shifting a little in embarrassment because the actual reason hadn’t even been a conscious thought. “I-I don’t have permission yet.”

Gilbert seemed taken aback and moved out of Matthew’s space enough to give his husband a significant look. Matthew looked down his body, already bright flush deepening from seeing how he looked, legs in the air, Alistair’s hand out of sight while the rest of him knelt nude and ready to take him. Alistair stared at Gilbert for a second longer before moving over Matthew, eyes alight with surprised pleasure. Gilbert made room for him as Alistair kissed him, setting a slow, deep rhythm to the kiss to match the movement of his fingers inside him. Matthew was shaking, still gripping the base of his shaft for dear life, the other hand exploring Alistair’s body. He had yet to touch and learn the bodies of these men and found he wanted to quite badly.

Alistair finally ended the kiss and they breathed together for a moment before he said, “Yer so good, baby. So good ta me.” Matthew couldn’t help his reaction to the praise, couldn’t stop the sudden spasming around Alistair’s fingers, and Alistair smiled knowingly at him. “Ye have me permission ta come whenever ye want, however ye want. Ye’ve waited long enough.”

On the next pass, a third finger entered him with some resistance and Matthew arched into him as much as he could. “T-thank you, sir. I-I want…” Matthew’s jaw went slack, gasp stealing his words. His head was emptying of complex thoughts, settling on repeating one word over and over again: _more._

“Say it, Mattie. Ye have ta say it fer us.” Alistair kissed along his jaw and down his neck, sucking and biting marks into his skin and…What did he want again? Oh, right.

Matthew blinked his eyes open and found Gilbert staring at them, fascinated, a hand moving lazily up and down himself. He whispered, “I want to come on your cock.” Alistair froze and Matthew whined at the loss of movement. When Alistair shifted to look Matthew in the eye from mere inches away, Matthew leaned up a little and nipped at his lips. “Please, Alistair, sir. I need it.”

“ _Matthew,_ ” Gilbert breathed into the room and it was so reverent it was almost a prayer. Alistair didn’t say anything. He held Matthew’s gaze as he removed his hand, swiped the excess lubrication over his dick, and positioned himself at his hole. Matthew wanted to look down and watch him enter him, but those green eyes held his in silent command and he couldn’t do it.

Alistair started to push into him and, even with the preparation, it was nearly painful, nearly too much. Tears came to his eyes as Alistair pushed past the ring of muscle, as he slowly thrust inside of him, but he didn’t look away. He watched the pleasure flit over Alistair’s face, the sudden gasps of breath, how soft his mouth and eyes got as he sank further into Matthew’s body. Despite the ache (because Alistair’s dick was proportionately long to his body but also _thick_ ), Matthew remained painfully aroused, so close to the edge that he could taste the orgasm. The hand he’d been using to control himself had fallen to grasp the sheets, his knuckles white.

When Alistair finally bottomed out inside of him, Matthew could scarcely breathe, overwhelmed and completely out of his depth. He felt so _full_. He was hesitant to break Alistair’s stare, but he wanted more of him. He wanted to touch him more than the current position allowed. He wanted to wrap his legs around his waist and feel his nipples scrape against the smattering of hair Alistair had on his chest as he fucked him. He wanted to wrap his arms around Alistair and mark his back with his pleasure when he came, which would be soon. So he leaned up again, lightly kissed Alistair’s lips, neither of them closing their eyes, and said, “May I move my legs, sir?”

Something almost audibly snapped in the man, expression sharpening as his first response was to kiss Matthew back hard enough that it forced Matthew to lay against the mattress again. Then he pulled away and guided Matthew’s legs around his waist, urging Matthew’s hips up to place a fast-grabbed pillow under him. Matthew cried out at the shift in angle, arching into the pleasure of it, straining for that last bit of friction. Even with his eyes closed, he felt the men watching him closely, but he didn’t mind the attention in the least. He was having sex for the first time in three years and it felt _amazing_.

“I’m gonna move, Mattie.” Alistair warned him only to get a frantic nod in return. Alistair slowly dragged his cock out of him and Matthew writhed. When he was about halfway out, he pushed back in abruptly and Matthew let out a short scream. “Holy hell, yer a screamer.”

Matthew didn’t have the wherewithal to decipher his tone, so he started apologizing, hands running placating lines along Alistair’s chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“Do. Not. Apologize.” Alistair bit out, damn near snarling, his hands capturing Matthew’s wrists before pressing them above his head. Matthew’s eyes widened comically as he panted. Alistair smirked down at him. “I remember wha’ ye said in tha club. Ye like this. Well, I’m goin’ ta hold ye down and feck ye and ye will _scream_ fer me.”

Matthew was pretty sure he forgot his name at that point, but he knew to say, “Yes, sir.”

Alistair’s dick twitched inside him while the man leaned down to growl against his mouth, “Yer feckin’ _perfect_.” He kissed him, hard, fast, and dirty. “Tell me when yer close.”

“I’m close.” Matthew replied immediately, because it was the truth.

Alistair was surprised at that and turned his head to look at Gilbert. Matthew did the same, watched their silent exchange, and had a fleeting thought wondering what was being agreed upon. It didn’t matter to him a second later when Alistair pulled out a little and snapped his hips forward experimentally, as if to see what Matthew would do. Matthew titled his head back, offering his throat to him, and tightened his legs on Alistair’s hips until the bone there cut into his thigh, but he didn’t scream. “Hmm, on second thought…Gilly, hold him down. I think I know just how our boy would like ta be fucked.”

Matthew shuddered at how he talked about him ( _our boy_ ), Gilbert helpfully coming to their side and holding Matthew’s wrists immobile while Alistair held his hips. Gilbert was still hard as he knelt by Matthew’s head and Matthew suddenly wanted to know how much of his dick he could fit in his mouth without choking. “And how’s that, Scottie?”

“Hard.” Alistair pulled out until only the tip of him was left and then pushed back in and Matthew’s back bowed, scream torn from his lips as Alistair maintained a bruising grip on his hips to keep in in place. “Oh, tha’s beautiful.”

Matthew was barely aware of the words tumbling out of his mouth, certainly couldn’t help them, as Alistair continued. “Oh, God, _oh, God,_ thank you, thank you, sir, _Alistair_ , oh, fuck I’m so close, please, please _Alistair, Alistair—“_   When a thrust hit his prostate dead on, he screamed wordlessly, coming just from them holding him down and Alistair fucking him. It felt like the top of his head was going to fly off as he screamed as fast as he could draw breath, every muscle in his body taut with the release he’d been building towards for three years.

When Matthew fell back into his body, shaking from the force of the orgasm, Alistair was still hard inside him though he wasn’t moving. As he relaxed, Gilbert loosened the bruising grip he’d had on his wrists and said to Alistair in an awestruck tone, “How the _fuck_ didn’t you spend during that?”

“With difficulty,” Alistair bit out, strain evident in his voice.

Matthew sighed and shifted, blinking his eyes open with a lazy smile. He was feeling _really good_. Gilbert and Alistair were staring at him with mixed looks of astonishment and hunger. “Hi.”

Gilbert chucked. “Hello, Matthew.”

Matthew’s smile widened. “I feel great.”  He focused his eyes on Alistair and said, “You should feel great, too.” He rolled his hips against him, tightening his muscles around him at the same time.

Alistair closed his eyes in a frown, an aborted groan escaping him. “Mattie, I’m tryin’ not ta feck ye inta tha mattress, but yer not makin’ it easy.”

“Why?” Matthew said frowning. He wanted to touch him, wanted to move more. “May I touch you, sir?”

“Let him go, Gilbert. Go ahead, Mattie.” Gilbert did and Matthew ran one hand along Alistair’s front while the other reached up, seeking Gilbert’s hand, just to let the man know he didn’t forget about him in the least. “Are ye not too sensitive, baby? Won’t it hurt ye?”

Matthew smiled slowly at the Scotsman. “Yes, but green. Please fuck me, sir.”

Alistair gaped at him for a second before allowing small movements of his hips. Matthew whimpered, couldn’t help squirming away from him a little as his body gave out those shocks of oversensitivity. Still, he told him, “Green.”

Alistair finally took him at his word and started driving into him in earnest, seeking his own pleasure without worrying too much about Matthew’s. Matthew happily took him in, gave him anything he needed, but he did notice a problem. He was a grower, not a show-er, so the amount of come in his condom was about to make a mess. He panted out, “The condom—“

“I got it, Mattie.” Gilbert said, actually handling it for him, the easy assumption of the intimate duty causing Matthew to shiver.

“Thank you, daddy.” Matthew managed even as he moaned from Alistair’s increasingly rough thrusts.

Gilbert looked at him sharply before looking at his husband. “Are you close?”

Alistair smirked at Gilbert before pointedly forcing a scream from Matthew. “Feelin’ impatient, love?”

“What do you think?” Gilbert kissed Alistair on the lips briefly before moving on to let him breathe, his hands touching his body with surety. Alistair’s rhythm faltered as Gilbert kissed his neck, his fingers playing with his nipples.

“Let me make this last, Gilly,” Alistair said, eyes closed and panting. “He feels _so good_ , I donnae want this ta end fast.”

“Alistair,” Matthew said, hand coming up to trace the lines of his face while his legs urged him to move harder and deeper into him. When green eyes met his, he continued with a smile, “You can fuck me again after Gilbert’s had his turn.”

Alistair took his hand in his and kissed his palm, shaking his head. “Ye won’t want ta; Gilly has a way of wreckin’ people.”

 _Gee, I wonder why_ , Matthew thought, eyes flicking down to Gilbert’s dick, still intimidating but not as impossible to take as it seemed at first glance thanks to Alistair. Matthew moaned as Alistair thrust against his prostate, giving him pleasure so sharp it hurt, and said, “I will.”

Then he made a high, surprised sound as his cock started to harden again. His two bedmates watched in fascination as Alistair fucked his ass and made his dick fill. When Matthew was fully hard moments later, Alistair’s eyes traveled up his body until they met Matthew’s again. “I believe ye.”

Gilbert rolled another condom onto him without him having to ask and Alistair let himself go at Matthew with abandon. He covered Matthew’s body with his own and claimed his mouth. He bit and licked at him as Matthew was helpless to do anything but take the short but hard strokes. He kissed him back when he had the breath to do so, but mostly just struggled to get enough air. If the sounds he was making didn’t encourage him enough, Matthew dropped his legs from Alistair’s waist but tried to meet each thrust with his own, their bodies moving in a frantic, passionate dance. He put a hand on Alistair’s ass to urge him on, the other carded through the red strands of his hair.

Alistair was nearly silent as he fucked him, but Matthew never once doubted his pleasure in this act. When he groaned out his name, Matthew knew he was close. He kissed him one last time before whispering, “Come inside me.”

Alistair groaned long and low as he thrust as deep as possible into him and stilled. The man trembled as he came, sucking in fast, almost aborted breaths with his eyes squeezed shut. Matthew kissed his slack lips, his cheeks, along his jaw, anywhere he could reach as his hands rubbed soothingly along his back through it.

When it was over after a long moment, Alistair blinked his eyes open and stared at him from the short distance, unreadable expression on his face. Matthew smiled at him for a lack of anything else to do and Alistair kissed him in that slow way of his. Matthew was still hard, still so turned on, and he shivered and clenched around the dick softening inside him. Alistair made an alarmed noise in the back of his throat and pulled away from him. He dragged his dick out of him and Matthew writhed at the loss.

Gilbert came to them, kissing Alistair gently. “You look shaken, _Sch_ _ätzchen._ ”

“Fuck him, Gilbert,” Alistair said, serious. He ran his hands down Matthew’s sides one last time before heading off of the bed, probably to go clean up. Gilbert turned to him, kneeling between his legs and sitting on his heels. He used a hand to pull Matthew to sitting and then tilted his head up to kiss him. Matthew melted into the kiss and allowed his hands to do what they wanted, one learning the map of scars on Gilbert’s body and the other finally taking his dick in hand. _Jesus_ , but even after all that Alistair had done it would still be hard to take him. He wanted to try nonetheless and stroked his dick in anticipatory appreciation. Gilbert released his mouth to say, “Hands and knees, baby. It’ll be easier to take me.”

“Okay,” Matthew answered him, promising himself that, the next round, he _would_ take his time to map out every healed ridge on this man’s body with his fingers and lips. He scooted back and turned over, essentially offering himself to Gilbert. He arched his back, enticing him, longing to know what it was to be taken by him.

Gilbert cursed as his large hands grabbed his hips, thumbs pulling his cheeks apart in a way that made Matthew blush, even after everything this man had watched his husband do to him. “Look at you,” Gilbert breathed, moving a hand so a finger could tease at Matthew’s rim. He whined, pushing back on the pressure and Gilbert shushed him. “You sure you’re ready for me?”

 _Yes, I’m pretty damn sure_ , he thought testily, but this was a man with a daddy kink. If he wanted something, the only thing he needed to do was ask to have him to have Gilbert all but falling over himself to give it to him. Matthew looked over his shoulder, tossing his hair out of the way and managed to meet the red eyes that had a hungry, knowing glint in them. That expression made it look like the color was lit from some internal fire in the powerful man behind him and would have made another man hesitate if not call the whole thing off. But he was Matthew Williams, Mateo Vargas, Ghost. He saw the flame and wanted to play with it, wanted it to burn him to his core. He begged, “Please give me your cock, daddy. I want it.”

Alistair heard him and cursed somewhere in the room. Gilbert gave him a slow and…Matthew was amoral at the best of times, so he hesitated to label anything as evil. But that expression had him thinking it as Gilbert stopped teasing his hole and started slowly guiding his dick into him.

Matthew dropped his head, panting, a high desperate sound emerging with every inhalation. _Too much, too much, too much_. Gilbert paused for a long moment and his internal mantra switched to _not enough, not enough, more, more, more._

“Color?” Gilbert asked, leaning over him to kiss along his back and up his spine.

“G-green.” Gilbert continued pushing into him and that suddenly was the only thing he could say. “Green, green, green, green.” Tears spilled from his eyes as Gilbert filled him more than any man had before, more than any toy he’d bothered to try back he had time for that kind of indulgence. Despite this, he sobbed, “ _Green!_ ”

When Gilbert’s hips _finally_ rested against his ass, Matthew was shaking, trying not to cry relief that there was no more to him. Gilbert was panting in his ear, body pressed against his back, laying kisses against his shoulder when he could. Gilbert lifted a hand from where it had supported him on the bed and ran it down Matthew’s front. Matthew watched its trajectory, both saw and felt Gilbert’s surprise when he found him still hard and aching for him. Taking him was a lot, but it walked the line of pleasure and pain that Matthew loved when he was this turned on.

“Unbelievable,” Gilbert said. “You’re so tight, Mattie. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Matthew’s body was adapting to the intrusion, accepting it, and Matthew wanted more. He pushed back against Gilbert, heard his breath freeze in his chest. “You can move, Gil.”

Gilbert bit his shoulder lightly before straightening so he was kneeling tall behind him. Just that small shift in position had Matthew balling his hands in the sheets. Gilbert gently undulated in and out of him and Matthew moaned, shaking his head, utterly overwhelmed.

Then Gilbert started talking.

“So _fucking_ gorgeous, Matthew. The way you begged for my dick over and over and now you’re taking me so well. You’re doing _so well_ , _Liebling_. _God_ , but watching Alistair fuck you was a goddamn religious experience. How you arched into him and screamed and how you _came_. You gave yourself to it, were so _lost in it._ I can’t wait to feel you come on my cock, Mattie. That’s how you want to come, don’t you?” Matthew babbled something that vaguely sounded like assent. “Think you can come untouched again, _Liebling_? Can you do that for me? Can you be a good boy and do that for daddy?”

“ _Jesus_ , Gilly.” Alistair breathed, amusement in his voice. Matthew hadn’t noticed when he’d come back to the bed. Alistair ran a hand down Matthew’s back, petting him. “Really?”

“Let me live, Scottie.” Gilbert snarled at him, but Matthew could hear the embarrassment in his voice. Sure, his kink was kind of laughable, but it was harmless and cost Matthew nothing to accommodate. He didn’t want Gilbert to be ashamed of this; there were manyworse things to be turned on by. And it sure as hell wasn’t like he didn’t have a few things he was into that he didn’t want anyone to know about.

“I can be good,” Matthew said quietly and Gilbert paused his movements. Matthew protested, whining and arching against him. Gilbert held him still.

“Wha’ did ye say, baby?” Matthew lifted his head and looked at Alistair through his hair.

“I can be good, sir.” Matthew looked over his shoulder, lifting a hand to push his hair back to make sure he could see Gilbert. The man was flushed, muscles standing out from the control he was using. He looked like some fallen god of battle. Matthew supposed that if he would call any man _daddy_ and not mean it ironically, Gilbert was a good choice. “I’ll be good for you, daddy.”

Gilbert jolted and shot a weighted look at Alistair before saying, “I know you will be, baby. I’m going to move you, okay? We’re going to give Alistair a show.”

“Yes.” Gilbert and Alistair then worked together to straighten Matthew, bringing him up so that his back was to Gilbert’s front. The shift of Gilbert inside him had Matthew gasping, hands scrambling for something to anchor him. Alistair took his hands and placed them on Gilbert’s thigh and shoulder, encouraging him to arch his back more into Gilbert.

“Like tha’.” Alistair looked him over, gently reaching up to brush the tears from Matthew’s face. He softly kissed him on the lips before moving back and laying down. “Fuck him, Gilly.”

Gilbert kissed his temple and started moving his hips in small circles. At first, the pace was exactly what he needed. Gilbert’s hands, one on his lower stomach and the other reaching across his body to hold his shoulder, were the only reason he didn’t fall over from the shock of pleasure and need that flooded him at first. However, the speed eventually would drive Matthew crazy he kept it up for long. He needed Gilbert to drive into him. The prep work was done; he was ready for it.

He gasped for breath, begging, “More.”

“I don’t want to break you.” Gilbert said.

Matthew laughed lowly, leaned his head back against Gilbert’s shoulder, and looked at him. He let himself be more than their boy, reminded Gilbert just what kind of person he was fucking. “You couldn’t break me if you tried.”

Gilbert said lowly, strain and a dangerous rumble in his voice, “Are you so sure of that?” His thrust harder into him and it felt so good it was nearly too much. Gilbert re-positioned the hand he had against the front side of Matthew’s shoulder to hold them against each other and put it on his neck, squeezing the sides a little. “Color?”

“Green! _Green, green, green_.”

“Feckin’ hell.” He heard Alistair say and he slit eyes he didn't remember closing open to see the man lounging beside them, expression rapt and dick coming back to life after spilling inside him not twenty minutes prior.

Matthew held his gaze as he spoke to both of them, words hissing into the room, “ _Ruin me_.”

Gilbert stopped holding back.

Matthew stopped existing beyond the feeling of Gilbert inside of him, the feel of his hands on him, the sound of his and Alistair’s voices as they praised him, called him good. Gilbert stopped speaking English at some point, though Matthew wasn’t exactly sure when. The only measurement of time for him were intervals when Gilbert did or did not let him breathe. He had no notion of what he was saying, what sounds he were making.

When he came, it surprised him. The orgasm wiped out his awareness for anything but the burning pleasure that drowned and froze and consumed him. His brain eventually registered things outside of himself and he blinked his eyes open to find Alistair holding his face, only an inch or two in front of him. His eyes flicked over Matthew’s face, like he was concerned. Matthew smiled at him.

“Mattie, are ye okay?”

“I—“ he started, his voice raspy and cracking. He tried again. “I’m fantastic.” Alistair released him with a sigh and Matthew turned his head to look up at Gilbert. The man was trembling against him but didn’t feel as hard as he had been inside him. Matthew reached up and caressed his face, trying to understand the lost expression on it. “Was I good for you?”

“Of course, _Liebling_. You were perfect.” Matthew shuddered at that and Gilbert shook his head at him. Matthew pulled him down to him in a kiss, still loving how aggressively Gilbert kissed him. When he ended the kiss, Gilbert asked, sounding like a strong wind could knock him over, “Who _are_ you? How are you like this?”

Matthew smiled at him again and it felt bittersweet. He was tired, the months catching up to him, and Gilbert had definitely destroyed him. Still, like _hell_ he would waste a second of their time together. He wasn't ready to leave these two men, wasn’t ready to walk away. They only had this one night; he would make the most of it. Gilbert pulled out of him and Matthew said truthfully, “Tonight, I’m yours.”

He turned to Alistair then, noticing that he hadn’t imagined the Scotsman getting hard again from watching his husband fuck him literally senseless. He threw his hands around the back his neck and kept his promise. They had this one night together; he wasn't going to waste it sleeping. “May I ride your dick, sir?”

Alistair grabbed for him, hauled him into his lap, and Matthew let himself go.

* * *

Matthew pulled away from Alistair’s kiss and sighed. He wasn’t sure how far he could walk, but he didn’t know if after what they had done he could emotionally handle the strain of them kicking him out. He would leave of his own volition and give the married couple their bed back. He was exhausted in the best way and about one more minute of immobilization from falling asleep. If he was going to make it back to his room and shower before he passed out, he needed to go now.

He made his way to the edge of the bed and tried to find his pants. There, in the far corner. Alistair must have flung them to the side when he tore them off of him. He stood, ignoring the pain shooting up his spine at the movement and hobbled over to where his jeans and underwear were. Matthew couldn’t help but smile to himself at the aches. Gilbert and Alistair had done as he’d asked and he would probably be feeling the echoes of this night for a week. When he leaned down to pick up the bundle of clothes, Gilbert said, tone confused, “What are you doing?”

Matthew turned around, clothes in hand, and saw Gilbert still lounging where he’d left him, nude and beautiful. Alistair was staring at him quizzically from where he sat on the edge of the bed now, one leg bent in front of him and the other touching the floor. “Um, getting dressed?”

“Why?”

“…because I need to?”

“Yer leavin’?” Alistair said, clearly taken aback and maybe Matthew was doing this wrong.

“Isn’t that what you want? That’s what usually happens…” His cheeks burned and he averted his eyes, suddenly aware of his nakedness. There was a marked difference between simply being without clothes and feeling exposed. He was now on the wrong side of that line.

Alistair walked to him and took his face in his hands, forcing their eyes to meet. “Yer tellin’ us that men have fucked ye and then immediately kicked ye out before?”

“Yes, every time…Isn’t that how this works?” He hated how naïve he sounded, how inexperienced. Including Alistair and Gilbert, Matthew could count on both hands the number of men he’d been with and still have fingers left. It hadn’t seemed to matter until that moment. Alistair released him and shared a long look with Gilbert that Matthew couldn’t read.

Gilbert answered him, rising from the bed. “No, that’s not how this works.” His words had a rasping undercurrent to them, eyes blazing, and Matthew was reminded that he actually knew very little about the two men he had given himself to. He didn’t know who they worked for or what they traded in or if this little indulgence would cost him during the meetings to come. He’d only known that they were not part of the network of Italian organizations that he knew like the back of his hand. These two were completely unconnected to the Families as far as the most recent information on key players back home said, which was why Matthew had been okay with going with them. But now— “How this works, Matthew, is that we are all going to take a shower, then we are all going to sleep. When we wake up,” he smiled then but it didn’t completely get rid of the cutting edge in his eyes, “I would personally enjoy morning sex, but that’s just me. Also, breakfast, if you have nowhere to be.”

Matthew blinked. “I can stay?” He wanted to stay. He wanted this bubble of freedom to last because the _second_ he stepped outside this hotel room, he wouldn’t have the luxury of being simply Matthew. He would leave and have to be Ghost again, for the safety of himself and the people he cared about. He would have to go back to being the silent, menacing presence at Lovino’s back, the unfeeling monster in the dark as far as most were concerned. Matthew was fine with doing what was needed but…he wasn’t quite ready to let this go.

“Aye, Mattie. If ye want ta.”

He beamed at them, beyond pleased, and dropped his jeans. “Then let’s go shower.”

* * *

Matthew was dreaming, he was sure. After the surprisingly intimate shower, the first he had ever taken with someone else, Gilbert had noticed his stiff movements and offered a back massage. Matthew had readily agreed and knew he had dropped off at some point from the calming yet arousing pressure against his muscles. So Matthew floated in sleep and almost could have sworn he made out a conversation.

“He’s special.”

“Tha’ he is.” A long moment of quiet.

“You know who he is when he’s not in our bed, don’t you.”

“Of course.”

“Tell me.”

“No. Ye know I like surprisin’ ye when I can. I’ll introduce ye this weekend.”

“At that dumb dance?”

“Gilly—“

“I know it has a purpose and Francis put a lot of work into it but it _is_ stupid, Scottie.”

A sigh. “Ye know how dramatic they are. But yes, we’ll see him at tha ball.”

“…He has no clue does he? Who we are?”

“No, but, ta be fair, he had good reason ta be distracted. _Three years_ , Gilbert.”

“That won’t happen again. He’s _ours_ , Alistair.”

“Not yet, love. But he will be.”

Matthew’s dream fell silent as he slipped further into unconsciousness, wondering if he would recall the strange words in the morning.

(He wouldn’t.)

* * *

The phone rang and Matthew flung out a hand to silence the damn thing. Or at least, he tried to. He hit sold flesh and heard a grunt in reply. “Sorry,” he mumbled, gently caressing the part of the man he’d inadvertently hit. “My phone.”

“Yer alright, Mattie,” Alistair murmured, rolling away from him to reach the bedside table. Gilbert shifted beneath him, groaning awake. Matthew had his head pillowed on Gilbert’s chest and Alistair ended up half draped over them both in the night.

“Alistair, if it’s anyone but L or A, turn it off?” Matthew said, snuggling against Gilbert’s chest. He liked this waking up against someone thing. He would have to look into a way to get a cuddle buddy…nah.

“It’s L.”

Matthew sighed. “Of course it is.” He held out his hand and Alistair helpfully placed it in his palm. “Thank you, sir.”

Gilbert made a choking noise and Matthew smiled against his skin, only opening his eyes long enough to hit the right part of the screen to answer the phone. “Is someone dead?”

“ _Always, but no one we knew. Good morning_ , _sunshine_!” Lovino said cheerfully down the line in Italian. Matthew was only going to speak to him in English; no reason to have his bedfellows start asking questions.

“What do you want?” He demanded sullenly.

“ _It’s eleven and you’re not in your room._ ”

“Fuck off.” When Lovino just laughed at him, he said, “Did you want something or can I go back to sleep?”

“ _Late night?_ ”

“Goodbye.”

“ _No, wait! We have food and drinks coming at three, so you need to be back for that.”_

“Ugh, fine. ‘Bye, asshole.”

“ _Goodbye, bastard. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!_ ”

Matthew snorted because he wasn’t sure exactly how that limited him and hung up. He tossed his phone to the side and settled back against Gilbert, blindly reaching for Alistair. They had gotten maybe five hours of sleep and Matthew was too tired from months of endless work and their activities the night before to be awake for no reason other than Lovino’s fun. “Sorry about that,” he said to them, realizing that he was not the only one forced awake by the call. “My friend likes to tease me when he can. He thinks it’s funny I’m not in my hotel room.”

“He might of thought something happened to you,” Gilbert said smoothing his hands down Matthew’s back. “Especially if you’ve always been kicked out after.”

Matthew shrugged as Alistair settled back against them, on Gilbert’s other side. “He was never around when I…let’s just say he was surprised when I told him how long of a drought I was in.” He opened his eyes, a little more awake now, and found Alistair staring at him, expression just the slightest bit befuddled. Matthew couldn’t help smiling back at him. “Good morning.” He turned his head so his chin was resting on Gilbert’s chest, giving his human pillow the same greeting.

Alistair leaned over him and kissed along the top of his spine. “Mornin’, Matthew.”

Matthew shivered and Gilbert smirked at him, a glint in his eye that Matthew was coming to be all too familiar with. “You know what morning means?”

“Sleep?” He said, knowing it was the wrong answer.

“Morning sex.” Gilbert’s hands gripped his ass hard, parting the cheeks so Alistair could run his fingers between them. When he brushed against Matthew’s entrance, a warning shot of pain arched through him and he hissed, cringing away from the touch instinctively. Gilbert and Alistair stopped, Gilbert’s hold on him relaxing. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Just a bit…sore. I-I’m sorry.” He hid his burning face against Gilbert’s chest. _Shit_ , if this was why they let him stay last night and he couldn’t deliver—

“Ye have nothin’ ta be sorry fer, baby boy,” Alistair said, peppering his shoulder blades with kisses. “We’re tha ones that hurt ye.”

“I’m not hurt, I just shouldn’t be fucked right now.” Matthew shuddered, enjoying the ache he felt, more pervasive than it had been last night. “You did what I needed; I’ll feel last night for a while. I would be happy to do something, though! My mouth still works and—“

“ _Liebling_ , do you think we’re upset?” He looked up at Gilbert, seeing a frown on his face.

“You’re not? The other guys were only interested in—sorry, I shouldn’t talk about that.” He hastened to say when Gilbert suddenly tensed under him and Alistair stopped kissing his back.

Gilbert dragged him up his body until they were face to face and ran a hand through his hair, eyes cold. “The more I hear about them, the more I think they need to die, Matthew.” Matthew’s survival instincts rose then, not to tell him that he was in danger, but that he never wanted to be in a position where Gilbert turned his ire on him.

“Mattie, do ye think we don't switch?” Alistair asked, coming to the side and kissing his cheek, like his partner wasn’t casually talking about killing someone for a man they had just met. “Yer tha one who set tha tone fer last night. If ye want ta, I would love fer ye ta fuck me.”

Matthew blinked at him, blindsided by the lust that rushed through him. Through gritted teeth, he said, “It’s been a very long time since I’ve done that. I won’t last.”

Gilbert kissed the side of his mouth. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here. Fuck my husband open for me, Matthew. If you’re up for it.”

He was up for it.

* * *

Matthew did his best not to stumble into his hotel room, but it was a near thing. Just walking without a slight, telling limp was difficult, but he so did not want to give away what he’d been doing more than his neck and face already did.

Gilbert and Alistair had clearly picked up on his love of being marked, because there was a constellation of hickeys on his neck. He’d asked Alicia pick up some concealer, but his second had literally thought of everything and said it was already waiting in his hotel room. His mouth was still swollen from the kisses he had given the couple in farewell, reluctant to leave even as he resolved never to see them again if he could help it. Those two were dangerous to him, made him want to be something he couldn’t. He also had absolutely no clue who they were, but the masquerade would have a lot of people to hide behind; he could be invisible in plain sight if he wanted to be. He doubted he would see them at the more private meetings he had arraigned; he knew all the players there except for the Horsemen. They were meeting with Famine the next day, since they were the one they had the border incidents with, and neither Gilbert nor Alistair even hinted at any connection to France last night. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been the model of the Italian mafia either.

When he’d pulled away from Gilbert for the last time and headed for the door, he had looked at them both and smiled wistfully. He’d said, “You two were worth the wait.” He’d left before they had a chance respond.

The security in the hall gave him a double take as he made his way to his room, face impassive, outwardly settled into being Ghost. He would have more time to mentally get himself in order, but he was a little too high on his endorphins and needed a chance to come down. A bath to soothe his muscles would help, but he regretted nothing of what he’d done the night before or that morning even as it made him weak for this short period of time.

He acknowledged the security with a nod and a dead glance, getting into his hotel suite with ease. He would have liked to say he was surprised at Lovino sitting in the living room area, drinking coffee while reading something on his phone, but he wasn’t. Matthew rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him. Lovino looked up and whistled long and low. “Look at you. You’re all glowy and shit.”

“I have another hour before our meeting, Lovi. I need a bath.”

He moved toward the bedroom, but he heard Lovino getting up to follow him. _Typical_ , he thought, disrobing as he went. “That’s when _food_ is coming. But we haven’t hung out in forever, you bastard, and you spent most of your time off being fucked…” Lovino trailed off, getting a look at Matthew’s back once he’d thrown his shirts off. “And fucked _well_. Who _was_ this guy?”

Matthew couldn’t help smirking at him, “More like _who were those guys_?”

Lovino gaped at him, “You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not, my friend.” Matthew said, rightfully smug as he turned on the water so the tub could fill. He saw some complementary bath salts and threw them in on a whim. “A married couple.”

“I need to sit down. I need a chair.” Lovino set his mug down on the counter by the sink and fled to roll in the desk chair.

 _So much for privacy,_ Matthew thought, though he wasn’t bothered by it. Lovino was right, it _had_ been a long time since they had taken more than a passing moment to just be friends. It wasn’t like the Italian hadn’t seen him nude before, so Matthew didn’t hesitate to lose the rest of his clothes and get into the fast filling tub, hissing at the sting of the water before settling back. Lovino was back soon, pastry in hand, and he sat down. “Tell me everything.”

Matthew snorted. “You’re my best friend but I am so not telling you details.”

“Rude. You have a threesome and aren’t willing to let me live vicariously through you? What kind of friend does that?” Matthew wrinkled his nose and flicked water at him. “It’s not like I don’t know your oh-so-many kinks from that one time you got drunk.”

“I thought we agreed to never talk about that night.”

“ _You_ agreed. I just stood there and made noncommittal noises. Indulge me a little. How many of your kinks did they get to?”

Matthew shivered, despite the hot water he was in. “Almost all of them.” A few couldn’t be done without an STD screening and a conversation first, so he’d never been able to see if he liked the reality as much as the fantasy, but most everything up to that point was hit.

“Hot _damn_. I’m so happy for you. To think you go three years—which I am still pissed at you about, by the way—and on your first try you get not one but _two_ men willing to blow your mind. What did they look like?”

Matthew smiled close-lipped, closed his eyes, and rested his head back against the tub. “Like heaven itself had spat them out.”

* * *

At 19:00 on the dot, he got a call from his second. “Alicia,” he answered, back into work mode and comfortable in his skin. He’d needed the break, but all good things had to end.

“We got a call from Famine’s people; they want to change the meeting parameters.”

Matthew frowned. _This late?_ He thought, though the words themselves were unnecessary to speak. The meeting was tomorrow morning at eleven, with the dance/ball/whatever starting at nine in the evening. “How?”

“The other Horsemen would be there.” Matthew sat up abruptly, shock so pervasive that he couldn’t suppress his reaction. They had prepared to deal with Famine, Matthew briefing Lovino on all he knew about the person, their role in the organization, and their connections both in and out of France. They would have to scramble to brief him on the other Horsemen, especially with the other meetings they had planned for the day. And the security alone…Matthew had negotiated for it to just be Famine in the room with him and Lovino, no further security, no other weapons than their bodies. This shifted the odds decidedly against the two of them in a fight, especially if War lived up to his name. His mind spinning, his second addressed his silent alarm. “Same time and place. They want to keep outside personnel to a minimum, but will let you in with blades. No firearms. They would be unarmed.”

That had him freezing. They were either confident that if it came down to a fight they could beat them with the weapons disparity in place or this was a concession to make up for the last minute change. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“They want to talk about more than the conflicts and the other Horsemen wanted to come. That’s all I got.” She would have tried for more information, more concessions, because Matthew had trained an already brilliant mind to do that, to push every advantage. Alicia would make a fine boss in her own right. If shit hit the fan back in Italy like he was anticipating it would soon and they all survived the storm, he wanted see how she took to commanding her own operation, if she wanted it.

He made a decision. “We agree to the new terms. Anything else?”

“No boss. The additional information is being sent to your tablet now.”

“Thank you, A.”

“Of course, sir.”

He hung up and looked at Lovino, who was eyeing him carefully. He allowed himself the tiniest smile and said, “Want to court the apocalypse, boss?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, buddy. (Also, it’s Canada Day, so Happy Birthday to Matthew!)  
> Sorry if that was too much sex for people, but I had to make it clear why everyone was shook after that night, why it had the power to set everything else that’s about to happen in motion. So, um, kinks with a purpose? And I cut it off after a while (they so were not done), showed some control over my own characters.  
> Song for this chapter: “Bedroom Hymns” by Florence and the Machine.


	3. Chapter 2: The Horsemen

While they'd had a good number of hours until the meeting with the Four, Matthew still felt like they had run out of time. He'd scheduled two meetings for Lovino prior to the one with Famine and they had to prepare for those  _and_ attend them. The lack of information he had about the Horsemen in general was both a blessing and a curse; they didn't have a lot of time to go over things, but there wasn't much to go over. Matthew still managed to brief Lovino on the confirmed links of the entire organization, but that wasn't saying much.

Luckily, he'd had the foresight to only schedule meetings with groups the Vargas family was on good terms with before meeting Famine. The Honda clan was old school yakuza, though the heir, Kiku, was adaptable enough. He usually dealt with Feliciano since they primarily traded in weapons, but Feliciano was managing things back in Italy. He'd helpfully sent a portfolio of history and dealings with the Hondas to aid their meeting. It resulted in a preliminary trade deal to be worked out further when Feliciano was available.

The other meeting had been with a rival (but not hostile) Italian Family who claimed the other half of the romantic pair Matthew had lost his temper over about a week prior. They had all agreed to avoid the Shakespearean tragedy and let the love-struck idiots self-destruct on their own, while talking though a bubbling border dispute in Sicily. Matthew had been particularly pleased with the latter outcome, liking stability in as much of Italy as possible to not have to rely on his  _everything-went-to-shit_  contingency plans for Lovino's safety. It was always good to have options.

He and Lovino were as prepared as he could make them as they headed to the meeting spot, a conference room in a local non-descript office building on the more residential part of town. It was completely unexpected in a way that radiated genius. They couldn't bring a large contingent of security because that would stick out like a sore thumb in the neighborhood, as much as it would if everyone in their group was dressed to impress the devil herself. Only Matthew and Lovino wore suits and all they would be doing was walking in and out of the building rather than loitering outside on watch. Famine had helpfully provided the specs for the building. Their destination was in the center of the structure, free of any windows for security reasons. Alicia and Ric, acting as he and Lovino's personal bodyguards, would accompany them to just outside the room. They had guns, he and Lovino did not.

Matthew was uneasy walking into this meeting for how much uncertainty there was surrounding its purpose. What did the other Horsemen want? They had no dealings with them, as far as Matthew was aware of. Hell, on a global scale, the Vargas Family was pretty small, only having strongholds in Italy and the United States. Why would Famine bother meeting with them alone, nevermind his colleagues? Why were any of them  _there_? What was the point of calling power players together for a  _ball_  in the first place?

With all these questions unanswered, it was a damn good thing Matthew had taken a break. He felt calmer than he had been for weeks while working. The general tension among the ranks they had brought with them declined markedly, proving that he had indeed been fucking with everyone's functionality. The weekend so far had been a revelation and a huge lesson in his power over the people around him. He couldn't let his personal hang-ups compromise their dynamic again.

They arrived ten minutes early, needing to go through the Horseman's security procedures. Alicia and Ric would go into the room ahead of them, to double check that the four people wore no weapons, while he and Lovino were checked for a lack of firearms.

Things were going smoothly, Matthew being patted down efficiently by a dark-skinned woman with close-cropped hair. She didn't react to the body armor or the number of blades he'd attached to his body. She stepped back, nodded to her fellow guards, and let them pass.

Alicia and Ric took a little longer to come out of the conference room, probably because they had to search twice as many people. When they exited the room, closing the door behind them, Ric was looking at Alicia strangely and for good reason. Matthew's second was pale, looked shaken to her core for some reason, and that worried him.

He couldn't show weakness here, but he wanted to comfort her, ask her what was wrong. In English (no need to put the guards on edge), he said, "Was there a problem?"

Alicia shook her head, swallowing, and Ric said, "No weapons found, sir."

Matthew tilted his head down in acknowledgement, but his eyes were for the woman he trusted the most in the world. "A?" He asked quietly, tone only for her as Lovino strode past for the door.

"Boss—" She said, but cut herself off. Alicia tried again, "They know. You've already—"

"Ghost, is there a problem?" Lovino asked, using his  _boss_  voice, eyes wary. He knew Alicia, knew how much it took to shake her, but they also couldn't be late for this meeting.

He understood so he asked Alicia a question, "Is anything or anyone in there actively poised to kill either Lovino or myself?"

"No, but  _Ghost_ —"

"Then I have to go." Matthew went around her, caught her abortive movement to stop him. His second didn't warn in him in vain, however. Matthew went against the discussed protocol and went ahead of Lovino. If something dangerous was behind this door, then it would hit him first. Lovino couldn't protest without showing the watching bodyguards that he didn't have complete control over his people, so Lovino just glared at him as Matthew opened the door, stepping into the room to get the first look at the elusive Horsemen…and promptly froze.

No.

Just…no.

His gaze shifted uncontrollably between knowing green eyes and shocked red ones. He stopped breathing as he stared at the two men he'd promised himself he wouldn't see again, if only because he  _wanted_  to see them again. There had been brief moments in the past day that his mind flashed back on to that night and morning in all too distracting detail. He'd allowed himself only once, before he'd fallen asleep the night before, to imagine what it would be like if he'd met them in another universe where he wouldn't have to fear running into them for a weekend, where he could be more than a one night diversion for them.

As always, reality managed to screw him over.

Lovino stepped around him as Matthew's mind put the pieces together in his head.

Gilbert. The man with the dark laugh, and the daddy kink, and the amazing hands, and the battle-scarred body. The German soldier of fortune turned merchant of death. War.

Alistair. The man who quoted Star Wars in bed, who fucked like he was making love, and who called him baby boy in that charming accent of his. The Northern European (Scottish) information broker with a security firm. Death.

Matthew had been fucked by Gilbert and Alistair.

Ghost had been fucked by War and Death.

The same War and Death who knew his name, knew who he was under the legend, who now had the power to destroy his myth. They had the keys to destroy the safety that Matthew had worked  _seven years_  to build around his friend, and Matthew himself had handed them over.

He was going to be sick.

He was going to kill them.

" _Ghost,_ " Lovino demanded, snapping him out of what was fast becoming a blinding rage. Right. He couldn't kill them. They were here for business. He was Ghost, the unfeeling monster at Lovino Vargas' back. He did not take lovers to feel unearned betrayal ( _they owed him nothing at all, he shouldn't feel like this, he shouldn't feel_ anything). He did not allow himself these weaknesses. He  _could not_  allow this weakness. He was nothing. He was no one. He was Ghost.

Ghost cleared his throat and closed his eyes for a moment before looking at Lovino. His boss flinched at the silent inquiry as to what he wanted.

"Close the door." Ghost obeyed, shutting the door behind him before turning back to follow Lovino's cue. He finally looked beyond War and Death to take in the rest of the room, assessing. He could have been shot in the moments he'd stood frozen by the door and would barely have reacted to it.

The Four Horsemen sat along one side of a dark cherry conference table (segmented, multiple supports, solid). The room was lit by ornate chandeliers (glass and iron, retro-fitted electric), making the lighting softer than in most ordinary office buildings (easier to conceal things). There were six black, rolling desk chairs at the table, the only two left unoccupied on opposite sides from the four. The room was long and narrow (approximately four meters by eighteen), but not small enough to fell confining, even with the lack of windows (three ventilation shafts, twelve o'clock, five o'clock, eight o'clock; odd placements but consistent with architecture blueprints).

The Horseman farthest from them stood with a welcoming smile and started approaching them. Tan, he had bright green eyes that traveled over Ghost warily (smart man). He was wearing plain but designer jeans, t-shirt, and dress shoes. The jeans were blue and well-worn and the man moved comfortably in them. The shirt was forest green, making his eye color stand out. Chocolate hair curled slightly and flopped over his forehead. His face was softer, more friendly and handsome in a boy-next-door sort of way. He indeed seemed to be unarmed as he held a hand out to Lovino and said in English with a rolling accent, "Welcome! I'm Pestilence, he/him."

His eyes were on Lovino when he said it and Ghost saw the moment his boss really saw the Horseman of Disease. Pestilence was exactly Lovino's type and, even knowing Lovino had seen and was alarmed over the sudden shift in Ghost's demeanor, he watched his boss blush bright red. He had an urge to raise an eyebrow at that, but he let it pass, taking in the scene impassively. Lovino cleared his throat and said, "Lovino Vargas, he/him. Thank you for the invitation."

"Oh, that was Famine, not me. I'm just here to tag along, offer insight." He dropped Lovino's hand and looked at Ghost, turning the smile on him. This was a negotiation of some sort. He had to be diplomatic. Ghost moved his lips in a small curve and watched some of the brightness leech from Pestilence's face to be replaced by sharp intelligence. "This is your Right Hand, I presume."

"Ghost, he/him." Lovino said, both as an introduction and a command. Ghost stepped forward, offering his hand to the Horseman.

Pestilence took it, smile turning wry and shaking his head. "Famine was right about you two."

Famine. The Horseman who specialized in finding what you wanted the most and turning it against you. Ghost stiffened, barely keeping himself from trembling with rage and betrayal and his own goddamn stupidity. Any attempt at a smile dropped from his face as he stepped back from the Iberian and did his best not to look at the bait he had so willingly taken.  _Of course_ , War and Death were sent to offer all that he wanted for a night, were sent to be the perfect bed partners before this meeting. Changing the attendees at the last minute to include War and Death were all just part of Famine's plan to weaken their negotiating position, to create leverage against them both. And it was working.

He was a fool to think that War and Death would want him for any reason besides power. A fucking court jester.

The best night of his life was a lie.

He was going to be sick.

"In what way?" Lovino asked, clearly picking up that something was wrong,  _terribly wrong_ , with Ghost and coming to his side.

Pestilence was frowning at them. "You're scary as hell, but is he okay? He looks ill."

"Pestilence…" Came a lilting voice from behind him. This man was blond, blue eyed with a five o'clock shadow even though it was late morning. He was dressed in a flowy white dress shirt and slacks. Ghost saw him looking them over and he tried his damnedest to pull himself together, to not succumb completely to Famine's plan, because who else could this be? "I thought we agreed to no field testing compounds this weekend."

Pestilence scowled at him. "Fuck off, Famine. It wasn't me."

Famine shook his head at him, fond, and smiled a little. "Apologies. I am Famine, they/them. I did not realize Ghost was ill; we could have rescheduled the meeting."

Ghost narrowed his eyes at them, staring hard, trying to see the lie on their face. Open curiosity, sincerity, slight concern…either Famine was a professional actor, or they were telling the truth and had absolutely no clue why Ghost would be thrown off balance just by walking into this room with all of them there.

Ghost tilted his head to the side a little and frowned minutely at them, resisting the need to stare at the yet unintroduced pair in the room. If Famine didn't send Death and War to fuck him senseless, then what the fuck was going on? The timing of it all was too convenient and Ghost didn't believe in coincidences.

Lovino shook their hand. "Nice to meet you." Ghost, on autopilot, did the same, nodding a little in greeting.

Famine looked at him strangely, raising their eyebrows. "Just as verbose as expected, then. Please, relax. This meeting is an overture of sorts. The entire purpose of this weekend is to build new relationships, after all." Ghost stared after them, sure incredulity was in his face, as they and Pestilence went back to their seats, presumably making room so that the other Horsemen wouldn't crowd them. Considerate, but Ghost still didn't look at War and Death.

Lovino leaned lightly into him before stepping away so it didn't look like they were huddling together. War stood, approaching Lovino but Ghost felt his eyes watching him closely, the sensation of his attention bringing too much back to the forefront of Ghost's mind. He struggled to maintain control as War shook his boss' hand and said, "War, he/him. Famine's right; we're here to make a mutually beneficial offer, that's all."

"Good to hear," Lovino said, tone suspicious.

War then moved smoothly to stand in front of him. Ghost stared at his chest, not daring to look above the neckline of the suit that fit over the athletic build of him so well. He clinched his jaw, mind frantically cataloging the black on red of the tie and shirt and jacket. He was trying to ignore the painfully visible marks that his mouth had left on the pale skin of War's neck, something he could see just out of his peripheral vision. He ground his teeth just a little, fought to feel nothing, and lost.

"Ghost?" War questioned quietly, tone too intimate and Matthew couldn't stop himself from looking up into those searching red eyes. There was a subtle sense of wonder on his face, a happy surprise and Matthew knew then that War hadn't been expecting to see him here but was glad for it all the same. War had had no idea who he was when he'd taken him to bed, had been in the same boat Matthew was in. Something in Matthew eased at that realization, at recalling how Gilbert had asked who he was in that astonished tone after fucking him the first time.

No, not Gilbert. This man was War, an unknown entity. Even acknowledging that limitation, that truth, Matthew couldn't stop himself from breathing, "Hello, War."

War flashed a smile at him and stepped back. Matthew hadn't realized how close they were standing until he moved away and his eyes immediately went to his friend. Lovino was openly gaping at him, Famine and Pestilence not far behind him. Famine even venturing to pinch the bridge of their nose. Well, it looked like the cat was out of the bag on this one. Since Famine and Pestilence had likely already guessed he wasn't as monstrous as he seemed, Matthew turned his gaze to the still seated Horseman, who had taken in everyone's actions with calculating eyes. His expression had been knowing when he'd walked into the room. He'd been surprised when Matthew had kissed him back in that club, meaning he had likely been expecting him to be Ghost. He had known this  _entire time_  who he was. Hell, he probably set up this meeting with all four of them instead of only Famine, just to watch Matthew squirm. If War didn't deserve his anger, he sure as shit knew where to direct it.

Death smirked at him. "Hello, Ghost."

"Death," Matthew bit back, putting all the ire and disdain he could muster into that one word while keeping his face as neutral as possible.

Death's smirk widened and he stood in a black on black suit that, but for the make, matched Matthew's. He looked damn good in it, too, which just made Matthew angrier for some reason. Death dropped the smirk but not the arrogant charm as he looked at Lovino and shook his hand. "He/him. I take it yer L on his phone?"

Matthew fought the urge to slap his forehead.  _Of course_  they'd heard him casually telling his boss to fuck off and affectionately calling him an asshole the morning after. So much for professionalism.

Lovino made a strangled sound in the back of his throat but managed, "Yes."

Death made a considering noise then sat back down, not even attempting to shake Matthew's hand. That was fair enough; Matthew was more likely to punch him than give him a civil handshake. "Shall we start?" Death asked, flippant.

War was standing with his feet apart, right hand on his hip and left hand covering his eyes, displaying carelessly his wedding band. "Death, why are you like this?"

Death grinned at him. "Ye know ye love it, War."

" _This is why_ I'm _the diplomat. Fucking hell. Can't take you two anywhere."_  Famine muttered to themself in French.

"Ghost," Lovino came to his side, smiling between clinched teeth. He continued in Italian as they walked to their side of the table. " _Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did. Please tell me you didn't spend the other night getting fucked stupid by War and Death."_

" _Do you want me to lie to you?'_ Matthew answered quietly, hating the blush coming to his cheeks. He was too much himself right now. Just being around War and Death made him slip the usual iron control he had on his body. The situation wasn't as bad as he had thought, but that didn't make the pair any less dangerous to him on a personal level. It didn't negate the fact that, even with how pissed he was at Death and knowing how War can make him lose himself at a word, he still felt the urge to climb into their laps and offer himself to them. It was a damn good thing that it was only the six of them in the room. If they had outside observers, even as security, Matthew was sure he would be panicked at the fact that he was more than Ghost out in the open, that he could enjoy a night with these two men who now obviously had power over him. God, no  _wonder_  Alicia had tried to warn him. His second had probably gotten a look at who he'd left with that night and knew how walking in here would affect him. He really didn't deserve her.

"Hmm." Lovino said then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, " _Which one of them is hung like a horse?"_

Regret. Matthew regretted everything he had done in his life to lead him to this point in time.  _Why_  did he let slip that one little detail yesterday? His blush flared, bright and obvious, and he hissed back, " _I hate you."_

"No, you don't." Lovino grinned at him as he settled into seat and reclined a little in it. Matthew stayed standing, settling into his usual position at Lovino's back. Lovino started by saying, "Well, since the ice is broken, let's get right to it. Where do you want to start? The skirmishes between our people or this mysterious offer of yours?"

"We start by clearin' tha air so tha' yer Right Hand doesn't decide ta kill me." Death looked at Matthew and dropped all pretense of cheer. "War an' I don't go anywhere we don't want ta. Famine didn't send us ta ye."

The rest of the room rippled in surprise, but something in Matthew's chest relaxed at him stating it plainly. "I figured."

"How? It crossed yer mind; it's why ye felt sick, yeah?" Death's eyes held him pinned, weighing, demanding, and Matthew found himself answering despite himself.

"They were too surprised, too curious as to what could make  _me_  sick." Death smiled at him like he had passed some test, giving him a silent  _good boy._  Matthew was torn between basking in the praise and throwing one of his knives at his beautiful face.

"Death,  _please_  stop antagonizing our guests." Famine said, sounding like they were barely keeping themself from yelling at him. "Ghost, would you please sit with us? People standing while we're sitting makes Pestilence and I nervous."

Ghost would have refused if not for two things: Pestilence shot Famine a dirty look that clearly said that they didn't have to bring him into it, and Lovino waved him over, ordering him to sit beside him rather than behind him. Matthew obeyed, sitting directly in front of War. Matthew allowed himself one glance at the man who had stripped away his control with one concerned inquiry. War was staring at him with mixed emotions plain on his face, so many that it was hard to read any one of them.  _God_ , he was stunning.

The glance had turned into a locked stare that Matthew broke the second he noticed what was happening. Yes, he had to stay far, far away from those two.

Famine started talking and Matthew realized that the entire room had watched the two of them make eyes at each other. "…As informative as it is to watch whatever this is, we do actually have business attend to. Lovino, both issues are connected. Pestilence and I have been deliberately testing the established power barriers of like-minded organizations to see how they would react. We're looking to expand our network of contacts, business partners; one from each region."

"And you chose us," Lovino said neutrally. "Why? We're relatively small. There are more established players in Italy, more powerful. Why come to me instead of one of them?"

Famine smiled at them. "I like how you conduct business. You seem to understand something about how power works that the others did not. You were not complacent or stuck in your ways as some of the older generation, but are surprisingly circumspect and cautious for your age. You do not seek to force influence, but cultivate it. Finally, you are one of the few groups I have found that follows our cardinal rule."

"Which is?"

Pestilence answered, "Free labor. We treat our workers like people, not chattel, from the farmer who tends my fields to our most trusted advisors. We, like everyone else, watched when you came back from America with a blond monster at your back, Lovino. But we might have been the only ones to understand why all hell broke loose in Florence within a year of your return."

Lovino cleared his throat and Matthew was shocked to his core. He had taken out that trafficking ring for no reason other than his own moral code. He thought that the universe had rewarded him for holding that line he would not cross by leading him to Alicia. Now it might be one of the few ways that he had come to protect his best friend. The Horsemen were not to be fucked with and damn near all criminal families knew it. It was why no one laughed at their names, scoffed at their threat. To have them on their side could make Lovino safer than anything Matthew could have done alone. Lovino said, "Most people are abused by something or someone their entire lives. If you offer them respect and a helping hand at the right time, it can create loyalty that could shatter worlds. My Right Hand taught me that."

Lovino touched the table in front of Matthew and he bowed his head in humble acknowledgement of his friend's words. He knew Lovino appreciated him and never took him for granted, but it was nice to know he was fine with showing that to these relative strangers.

"A wise lesson to remember, and one many in our world has yet to grasp," Famine said, eyes flicking between he and Lovino like they were trying to figure out if the rumors of them having a romantic relationship was true. Most people who could have an opinion on the matter in Italy knew it wasn't. Lovino was shameless if discrete in taking his own lovers and Matthew had only ever responded to it with a shake of the head and a comment about security. Most people who didn't think he was sleeping with Alicia were starting to conclude that Ghost was asexual, though the vast majority had no concept of what that word meant. No one dared say it to his face, but he knew he was called a eunuch or sexless robot behind his back.

Lovino narrowed his eyes at the four of them. "What exactly would this partnership entail?"

"An exchange and limited sharing of resources," War said, leaning back in his chair. He was all business now, eyes sharp and small smirk on his lips. "We have few contacts in Italy, no safe harbor in a large chunk of Europe due to the old politics between Families. I don't like dark spots on a map when it comes to my people's safety."

"Few have been willing to deal with me in Italy for…reasons." Pestilence said, wincing. "Reasons that have nothing to do with the quality of my product or my ability as a businessman. I need a foothold to reach the Italian market."

"We don't have an established distribution system," Lovino said cautiously. He knew that the drug lords of Italy did not take kindly to people moving in on their markets or territories. For them to do so would be a war they couldn't afford.

Pestilence shook his head. "What I would need you to do is give me key information on how things are done. I would worry about distribution."

"The problem is not infrastructure," Matthew said quietly. "It's competition. We simply don't have the resources to overthrow the established players. To attempt it would mean a war that only taking over Italy's underworld would let us survive."

"Tha's where Famine and I come in." Death said sitting up and resting his forearms on the table. Matthew made himself look at him for the very real threat that he was as Death said, "Ye know from yer work in gettin' rid of slave rings and buildin' a relationship with yer law enforcement tha' sometimes it's best if organizations impload and collapse rather than are conquered." A thrill went through Matthew at his words. Death was right, but just how much did he know about how they worked? How much did he know about  _everyone_?

Lovino swept his eyes over the Horsemen. "You're asking us to take over Italian crime.  _No one_  has done that successfully before, and with good reason."

Famine shook their head at them. "No, Lovino. We have had some troubling interactions with other Families and are already planning our retaliation. It would be best if we had someone on the inside, but what we want can be done without your assistance. You can decide if you want to work with us; that is entirely up to you."

Pestilence said, "We respect the work you do, so if you decide against joining us, feel free to consider this a warning. At our core, we are a group built on contained chaos. Too much instability just makes a mess, but if you're in on the cause of it…"

"We can pick up whatever survives." Lovino said, tone and face neutral.

Pestilence grinned at him. "Exactly."

Something clicked into place in Matthew's head. That's how these four people gained control over their vast territories; setting up groups to destabilize, then turned them on each other, cleaning up whatever was left to salvage. They were suggesting they were willing to help his friend do the same in Italy. Lovino was just ambitious enough to consider it, but Matthew's only goal was to make sure his friend stayed alive. "The offer is generous," he said cautiously, voice respectful but also conveying how much he thought it would get them all killed.

"Ye seem wary, Ghost," Death said.

"There's no Fifth Horseman in  _Revelations_ ," Matthew said simply.

War and Death smiled at him. Famine nodded, "That is fair. But we have no interest in controlling more territory than we have now. We understand our limits. We only want to make sure there will be someone to fill the vacuum our rage will create in Italy. And it is good to get along with your neighbors,  _non_?"

Lovino said, deadpan, "You're being neighborly."

Pestilence apparently found that funny, smiling at them in good humor, "Yes! If you agree to work with us, we would be in relatively frequent contact. The only other thing we ask is that you keep working with us as much secret as you can."

"You are obviously well versed in keeping a secret; not even Death could find your true name, Ghost," Famine said. Matthew resisted the urge to bang his head against the table in frustration. For fuck's sake, he wasn't even sure if Gilbert and Alistair were their real  _names_. Sure, considering how familiar they were in using them, it was likely but it wasn't certain. And Matthew had freely handed them his best kept secret.

"My alias serves it purpose then." He maintained very good eye-contact with Famine. He was  _not_  going to look at War, Death, or Lovino.

"Yes, yes, Mateo Vargas. Lovino Vargas'…husband?"

Lovino gagged and Matthew couldn't help sending them a slow, cold smile. "Brother."

"Forgive me, but you two look  _nothing_  alike." Matthew should have been angry but, honestly? He was amused. Famine had this strange charm that just made people like them and Matthew allowed a small chuckle to escape. Famine gasped, "You laugh! People said you lacked the ability!"

Any light that had made it into his eyes faded and he drawled, low and dangerous, "You'd be surprised what I can do."

Famine shivered visibly and Lovino said in a strangled voice, "Ghost, tone it down."

Matthew leaned back in his seat, looking casually over at Lovino. "Boss." He wasn't sure what he'd been trying accomplish with that little exchange. His eyes traveled without his permission to War and Death, both of whom were watching him carefully. He gave them the same dead gaze he'd given Famine. He couldn't let them have that power over him. He  _would_  not.

War saw something in his face and smiled at him.  _Fuck_. Who the hell was he kidding? These two had his ticket. He would just have to avoid them as much as possible. Another good reason to not go three years without sex again; it gave whoever broke his fast way too much power over him. It sure as shit didn't help that War and Death had been  _wonderful_.

But he shouldn't think about that right now.

Or ever again.

Except maybe when he was in the shower by himself.

Seemed like a good compromise.

"What's the time limit to consider the offer?" Lovino asked, wary.

Famine sighed. "This meeting. My apologies for the short time span, but this evening is the start of our plans. We need to know now."

Matthew and Lovino looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Lovino lifted his right eyebrow minutely.  _What do you think?_

Matthew tilted his head to the left then lifted his chin a little and bowed his head.  _Risky, but maybe worth it. It's your decision, I'll follow you wherever you go._

Lovino shook his head at him, smiling a little.  _I know that, bastard. But what do you actually think?_

Matthew swept his eyes over the four people watching them. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. He said aloud in Italian, " _We can either go with them or they'll go over us._ " That, and knowing who they were targeting and how could help him prepare for the inevitable fallout, so he could plan proactively rather than reactively. He preferred their power field to be stable, but if the Horsemen were going to fuck up the status quo anyway, it was much better to be on their side than on the side-lines and possibly in the crossfire.

Lovino sighed upwards, a short puff of air that made his bangs move. That he would make this gesture in front of them said more than anything his decision, but the direct translation was,  _Well, shit, you're right._  Lovino then looked at them all and said, "We agree."

Matthew internally grimaced at that little slip. It said more than anything that they were partners, not leader and subordinate. No matter the truth of it, they did take steps to hide that.

"Great!" Pestilence said, clapping his hands together. "Bring your own liquor or drink water tonight!"

That wasn't alarming at all.

"We need a point of contact in your organization so we can reach you if you're both unavailable," Famine said, smiling.

"Alicia, my second. She's been the one handling the negotiations over the past few days."  _While I'd been indisposed, aka getting fucked senseless by two people sitting at the table._

"Ye have a mole." Death said casually, like he was commenting on the weather.

"Who?" Lovino asked in a similar manner.

Death shrugged. "Midlevel enforcer, Rafael. Reports back ta Interpol. Been with ye fer 'bout three years. Doesn't have much on ye, thanks in part ta how damn close ye keep yer cards ta yer chest. He  _does_  have a fair bit on yer wee brother, though."

" _Fucking hell. Goddammit, Feli_."

"We'll take care of Rafael. Thank you for the information," Matthew said as neutral as he could. Death smiled at him and Matthew felt something in him quake.

"Do you like your brother, Lovino?" War asked.

Lovino sighed. "Yes. He trusts people too easily sometimes, in part because he doesn't have someone like Ghost as his Right Hand, but he's damn good at his job and loyal to me."

"We have someone in Interpol; he'll doctor the files. Anyone in particular you want arrested in your organization?" War said helpfully, eyes pleased at this turn of events.

Lovino and Matthew looked at each other. This would be a good way of testing just how much the Horsemen could do and there was one pain in their side that they would be happy to have out of the way. "Leonardo Vargas. Third in line for head of the Family." Matthew said. Leo supposedly handled their prostitution branch, but Matthew had good reason to suspect that he didn't care as much about Matthew's rule as he pretended he did. He was scum and needed to be eliminated, but Matthew's hands were tied because of who he was in the organization hierarchy. He was Lovino and Feliciano's first cousin and virtually untouchable to him.

War leered at him and Matthew should have been mad, but he was just increasingly turned on. "Done."

Beyond curious and since War seemed to like him, Matthew asked, "Who do you have in Interpol? Getting a source from there has been…difficult."

War smiled and indulged him. "My brother."

That would do it.

"This is all very…generous. What do you need from us?" Lovino asked.

Pestilence grinned at them. "Enjoy the party tonight and keep your eyes and ears open. You know how alcohol loosens tongues."

Lovino looked at Pestilence for a long moment before sending him a secretive smile. "Will do." He stood and everyone stood with him. "I assume you'll be in touch about more details?"

Famine nodded. "I'll send an encrypted document to you as soon as possible."

They moved to the door, the Horsemen reaching it first. Lovino shook hands with them as he went down the line. "This has been…productive is a word."

Pestilence beamed at his friend. "Enlightening is another."

Matthew was back to being the silent presence at Lovino's back, only nodding to Pestilence and Famine as he shook their hands. The problem was that he was now expected to shake hands with War and Death and he hadn't touched them since…

The last touch he'd given them was a kiss goodbye.

War was first, offering his hand innocently to Matthew. He tried to take it nonchalantly, to not let the rough scrape of his calluses remind him of what it felt like to have those hands on his body, holding him down, grasping his neck. He failed miserably, doing his best to nod at the man, not out of farewell but because he wasn't sure what he would do if he stared up at those eyes.

He tried to take his hand back but War held firm. "Ghost."

War liked looking into his eyes.  _Open your eyes, Mattie_. Matthew looked up, met his gaze, and said quietly, "War."

War briefly had a lost expression on his face.  _Was I good for you? Of course,_ Liebling.  _You were perfect._

Matthew looked down and took his hand away from him, moving on. He had no defenses against War, but he wrapped his anger at Death around himself like armor. He was less enraged than he had been, especially with him providing information about the mole, but Matthew only had anger left to protect himself. He was going to use it.

The anger made him able to look at Death without hesitation, made it easy to glare at the cutting perfection that was this man's face. He tried to keep the handshake professional, but Death pulled him close to him like he did at the club, forced their bodies to collide. He didn't attempt to kiss him, however. This was a wise decision since Matthew was one wrong move from pulling a knife and gutting him. Death probably saw that in his face as he smirked and said, "See ye tonight, Ghost."

 _Like hell he would._ Matthew wasn't quite at the level of hiding in the shrubbery to avoid these two, but he was getting pretty damn close. Matthew's response was to say dryly in Italian, still pressed against Death, " _I'm taking a vow of celibacy."_

As he stepped away a little, Lovino said, " _Fuck_ that  _noise. No the fuck you aren't. After four years, you would just kill everyone who annoyed you and_ then  _where would we be, huh?_ "

" _It certainly seems a little drastic,"_  Pestilence said in the same language, clearly amused. Matthew pulled back from Death completely, silently cursing himself fluently in every language he knew. He glared at Death before opening the door and walking out, Lovino right behind him, laughing like he'd just heard the funniest thing in his life.

Alicia met him first, eyes scanning him for any emotion but the anger already present on his face. She didn't relax at the sound of Lovino's laughter, just took him in. He nodded to her, trying to convey all was theoretically well, as they walked out of the building. He  _really_ hoped that Pestilence hadn't heard the "hung like a horse" comment.

The entire meeting had taken less than thirty minutes, so they were ahead of schedule for the day, had a full hour and a half until their last meeting before they had to start getting ready for the masquerade. Their people piled into cars and headed back to the hotel, Lovino settling back into the mob boss role, if looking a bit too amused. Matthew held on to his fuming anger, which immediately put their security on edge. So little forced a visible emotion out of him that everyone was immediately on red alert. Also, the only person who wanted to be in a car with him and Lovino was Alicia. That was convenient, since they needed to talk.

"Car's clean, sir." Alicia said, hopping into the driver's seat, immediately adjusting the chair so she could drive comfortably. She meant clean of bugs, which was great. He appreciated her paranoia when it came to things like this.

Matthew settled into the back seat, put on his seatbelt, and sighed. "Thank you, A. And thank you for the warning."

"It was the least I could do," she demurred then straightened her back from the slight slouch she had fallen into. "What's the plan?"

Lovino got situated next to him. Sounding like he was having a grand time, he said, "Well, professionally, we just gained some very powerful allies."

"A, when we get back to the hotel, I need all the information he have on an enforcer named Rafael. He works with Feliciano the most."

"Got it, sir." She pulled out onto the street in the middle of their usual caravan of cars, navigation set back to the hotel address. The majority of their staff needed to change.

Matthew's mouth twitched. "It's just us. It's Ghost."

"Got it, boss." She replied, but it was with a teasing lit to the words.

" _Personally_ ," Lovino interrupted their familiar banter, "Our favorite person just gained not one but  _two_ suitors. What was that you told me last night? 'Want to court the apocalypse?' You're  _way_  ahead of me on that one."

"Fuck off, Lovi."

"Which ones were they?" Alicia asked, curious.

"War and Death," Matthew grumbled.

"Death's a bit of an asshole, buddy."

"And Pestilence is a little unhinged, so you don't get to talk."

"Whoa, what's this about Pestilence?" Alicia asked.

Matthew smirked. "The boss wants to hit that."

"It's not like I  _already_ hit that and you're trying to redirect the conversation. War and Death want you again."

Matthew scoffed. "No, they don't."

"Ghost, are you blind? I have no clue what the fuck you did to them, but War is  _gone_  on you and Death isn't far behind."

"You're seeing things."

"No, I'm really not. While you were so busy trying not to look at them, they barely took their eyes off of you the entire time. Hell, before we did anything, Death made sure you knew they went with you only because they wanted you. You were just as into them yesterday and what I watched happen in that room tells me you're still interested." Matthew swallowed and looked out the window, watching the residential area melt into a more urban setting. Or as urban as Monaco got; it certainly wasn't New York.

"What happened?" Alicia asked, like she was fearing the answer.

"What happened is that Ghost scared the shit out of me by freezing the second he entered the room then going full Right Hand mode. I swear the temperature in the room dropped when he looked at me. The thing that made him go back to being our friendly neighborhood Ghost? War. War said  _one word_ to him and suddenly he was human again. A human who was pissed off at Death and willing to show it."

"Fuck," she said.

"I can't see them again," Matthew said.

"Uh, why the fuck not?" Lovino asked, incredulous.

Matthew balled his hands into fists. " _Because_  War made me lose control at a word, Lovino.  _Because_  even with how pissed I am at Death, I still want to touch him. Because they know who I am. Because they called me a name not even  _you_ use anymore and I loved it. Because I want them so bad it was hard to concentrate on business. Because at the end of the day, it doesn't actually matter to me what they are or what they do; I want them so much it's hard to see straight. They are a weakness I cannot afford."

The car was silent for a moment before Alicia ventured to say, "Ghost, being romantically interested in someone isn't always a weakness. And, as love interests go,  _War_  and  _Death_  are so not cannon fodder. They are legitimate, frankly terrifying threats all on their own. In what universe would you call them weak?" When Matthew didn't say anything for a long moment, she continued. "When I first saw you after you came back to us, do you know what I thought you looked like? You were relaxed, yes, but you were also sad, wistful in a way I had never seen from you. In working for you over the past six years, I had  _never_  once seen you look sad or lonely. Not once, except for yesterday evening. Do what you will, but I think they are good for you."

"She's right, Ghost." Lovino said, somber. "When you talked about them to me yesterday, in whatever I could pry out of you, you seemed happy but almost longing. I know that this life is demanding but I—Alicia and I want you to be happy. You always do what you can to make sure we are taken care of; don't you think it's time you did something for yourself?" Matthew was staring at them both, speechless. After a moment, Lovino smiled mischievously at him. "Also, as your friend, you are in much need of a steady supply of sex. I want you to have more sex in your life. A three year drought can't be cured overnight."

" _Three years!"_  Alicia all but shouted at him. "What the fuck do you mean,  _three years_? You didn't tell me that!"

"Why is that such a big deal to people?" Matthew mumbled, really not getting it. Sure, it was a long time and he'd gotten a little testy by the end, but he'd been mostly okay.

"…Ghost, we never talk about this, but if I go two months without sex, people start bleeding." Alicia said bluntly.

"Honestly, same. Are you sure you're not on the ace spectrum?"

"Yes, dammit. Ask War and Death."

"I think I will."

 _Regret!_ "Oh, God, no. Don't do that, Lovi. Can we  _please_  get back to business? Like the fact that no one else but the people in this car are supposed to know we're working with the Horsemen now?"

"Oh, right." Lovino started filling in Alicia on what happened at the meeting. Matthew's head was spinning. Did he want to see them again? Yes, more than he was comfortable with. But should he?

Despite what Famine said, he severely doubted that people who named themselves after the harbingers of the end of the world would get distracted by petty grudges in Italy. No, there was a bigger picture here, he and Lovino probably only pawns in their schemes, which was a little worrying. If he was generous and wanted to extend the metaphor, perhaps they were bishops. The point was they couldn't trust the Horsemen to only do what they would tell them. He would check on Rafael, see if Leo was actually arrested in the coming weeks. Even if everything worked in their favor and the Horsemen upheld their promises, Matthew would carefully maintain his plans and escape routes. Above all, he would watch his ass like a sonovabitch. He would ensure the two other people in this car survived whatever games the Horsemen were playing.

His most immediate concern, however, was the masquerade. If nothing else, it was going to be an interesting night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (He's on the ace spectrum. Or at least in the strange nether space between the ace-spectrum and the Kinsey scale. Let's just say he's grey-ace. I mentioned to my non-ace roommate that he hadn't had sex in three years since that's completely reasonable to me and she was utterly horrified.)
> 
> (Also, to go back to the chess analogy, both Matthew and Lovino will be more important than bishops on this board, but that has yet to been seen.)  
> (edit 2/3/18: yo I was alerted to the fact that Alistair's accent was off by someone who actually knows the accent, so I'm going to change it across all my on-going stories. Just bear with me in the coming months, please--law school still owns my life.)
> 
> Song for this chapter: "Glory and Gore" by Lorde.


	4. Chapter 3: Masks On, Masks Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting the songs here in case someone wants to listen to them when they crop up. The main song for this chapter (and the first dance) is "Beneath the Brine" by The Family Crest. The one that immediately follows in the chapter is "Crazy=Genius" by Panic! at the Disco.

Matthew wasn't hiding from War and Death, per se.

You had to be actively sought by someone in order to be hiding from them, right? No?

Anyway.

"Ghost." Lovino said quietly. His boss was dressed in a tuxedo actually tailored to his body (rather than their usual body armor), their entire entourage forgoing elaborate costuming that some groups had decided to run with. Lovino and Alicia had the most fun in coming up with little variations in their outfits, color coordinating their shirts and designing their masks. Everyone was in tuxes, even the very femme Alicia, but their colors were unusually bright for them…well, everyone except Matthew. He had insisted on his shirt being black, but allowed his mask to have a midnight blue undertone that showed through as he moved rather than the matte black it first appeared to be. Lovino was in copper, the color bringing out his eyes. Alicia was in royal purple, her go-to color whenever she could choose. Ric, their brawny head of security in his mid-thirties, was the only other guard with them, each invitee only allowed one personal guard, and he was in a white shirt and checkered mask. Each mask only covered each of their faces horizontally from just over their brows to the tips of their noses, were made of plaster and secured with black ribbons. No one liked how the masks fucked with their peripheral vision, but they were theoretically supposed to be there for a party. Sure, they were all going to be stone cold sober throughout, but a party nonetheless.

Matthew stepped closer to his side and bent his head to listen. They had spent the past hour mingling. Okay, Lovino mingled; Matthew was a silent presence at his back unless directly addressed. Alicia and Ric were moving through the room, gathering information and keeping their eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. Alicia had made sure they knew what the Horsemen were wearing since they didn't seem to be making a grand entrance. Apparently they had gone with three-piece suits, the slender ties the only flash of color on their bodies, otherwise clothed in black. The ties matched their masks. Famine wore black but with gold cracking through the unrelenting darkness like lightning. Pestilence wore green, a small pattern stitched into the items that Alicia hadn't gotten close enough to distinguish. War wore red, only the mask was covered with what looked like fine black lace. Death wore unadorned white, plain in its finality. The latter two were also missing a critical piece of jewelry: their wedding bands.

Matthew had looked at Alicia askance when she mentioned that last detail, not knowing what to make of it. If their relationship wasn't common knowledge, then why did they wear them that night to the club? Were they actually married? They had certainly acted like it. If that was the case, why did they wear them to the meeting with him and Lovino earlier? Had they been  _that_ sure that Lovino would agree to work with them? Something to think about.

It hadn't taken Matthew long to spot them after her brief report, if only to pinpoint where both of them were at all times and make sure they didn't accidentally run into them. They had both been on the main floor, Matthew looking out over the space from the second floor balcony that encircled the main area that included the primary bar, a myriad of tables and chairs, and the dance floor. Servers circulated the room with trays of sparkling wine and hors d'oeuvres. Matthew had taken a moment to seek out dark red and silver hair and had to grip the balcony's stone railing to steady himself. They'd looked devastating, War smirking to the couple he was speaking with and Death smiling mockingly to who he was talking to, probably being a dick for the hell of it. He was completely right to want to postpone meeting them, urging Lovino quietly to stay on the balcony as long as they could. His friend wasn't having it, wanting to be where the majority of the people (and the food) were.

Lovino said to him, tone teasing, "Are you really trying to avoid them all night? Famine made it pretty clear they wanted to talk to you."

"They only said that we should meet all the Horsemen tonight, boss," Matthew demurred, quietly reminding Lovino that they were playing a role here. They were  _supposed_  to be acting like they were just meeting the four crime lords for the first time. It only made sense for Matthew to act like the concerned second, keeping his boss and friend from meeting some of the most dangerous people in the room, if rumor could be trusted. At least, that was the official excuse he had concocted for if he was called on it.

The real reason stemmed from the fact he had a difficult time holding on to anger if it wasn't deserved. He was generally slow to the emotion unless someone he cared for was threatened and any true ire he had for Death over his subterfuge had faded in the hours since he had seen him. Because that was the only defense he had to him and he had no such thing for War, it was best for his sanity and reputation if he had as much time as possible to prepare for even the briefest of encounters.

Lovino shook his head at him, smiling indulgently. "Right. Anyway, on a completely unrelated subject, you have the night off after the party if you want to make any…appointments. We can debrief in the morning, or even the afternoon, before traveling back home."

Matthew was proud to say he only sounded a little strained as he replied, "Thank you, but I'm sure that won't be necessary." He then looked up and around as Lovino laughed at him, prepared to return to his spot a pace away only see Death himself approaching them, slight curl to his lips. Matthew cursed his friend thoroughly in his head for the deliberate distraction. Death looked  _damn fine_  and Matthew should not be here. He summoned any anger for the man he could muster, tried his hardest to make his eyes cold and neutral. He might have succeeded, but it was an effort to maintain looking at the intelligent expression and talented mouth.

Death stopped in front of Lovino, everyone in the immediate area watching as they took in the largely unknown figure. Lovino spoke first, not offering a hand as he greeted, "Death, I presume?"

Death smirked at his friend and nodding his head a little, "Aye. Lovino Vargas? And his Ghost." At his name, Death looked at Matthew, his green eyes and red hair a startling contrast of color against the perfect white of his mask. Matthew knew what that hair felt like between his fingers, knew what it was to have those eyes boring into him as he himself was entered.

Matthew lowered his head in acknowledgement and respect, but it was more to force himself to look away from the other man than to say hello.

"Yes. We thank you for hosting this event and extending us the invitation." Lovino said formally, but there was a wryness to his tone that suggested that there was more going on here.

"It was me pleasure," Death answered, slight emphasis on the last word. Then he stepped more fully in front of Matthew. "Do ye dance, Ghost?"

Matthew stared at him.  _What is he doing? What does he gain from this beyond my further humiliation? He knows about Ghost, knows that I don't touch people like this. Why is he pushing this now?_ The ball was hosted in one of Monaco's historic buildings, built of stone and domed over where people had formed a makeshift dancefloor. A string quartet had been playing with a pianist, but they were on break. Modern music that seemed to be an eclectic mix filtered through discrete speakers, all of it acceptable if with a vaguely disturbing undertone of deeds done in the dark. A bit tongue in cheek considering the attendees, but Matthew had found humor in it. Now that he was being asked to dance to it…

"He does," Lovino answered neutrally for him.

Death's mouth formed a mere suggestion of a smile. "Would ye like ta dance,  _Ghost_?" Then he did the one thing that guaranteed his acceptance, severely limited his choices. Death held out a hand in invitation and bowed to him. The gesture wasn't obviously mocking and the formality of it drew more attention that he was comfortable with.

Matthew didn't take his eyes off of the ever-watchful gaze of his new dance partner and saw the briefest flash of triumph appear when Matthew took his hand. Death straightened and led him by the hand to the dance area. They were not the only queer pair on the dance floor, but they were the only pair with one of the infamous, mysterious hosts. Everyone noted that Vargas' Ghost (or if they didn't know who he was, word of mouth would change that soon) was to dance with Death. They would watch their every step, strain their ears to hear their every word, dissect their body language for its murmured implications.

Matthew had no experience dancing with someone he'd fucked after the deed was done. The nature of the business and his position meant sleeping with someone in his world could have always meant being outed, with all of his preferences and his true self common knowledge. Only desperation had him dismissing this concern so easily the other night. And you did not lightly endanger civilians by interacting with them too much.

He was an accomplished liar, but he wasn't sure he was up to the task of convincing everyone in the room that his body was not familiar with Ali—with Death's. He wasn't sure if he could convince himself that his body did not crave further understanding, even with the state of affairs being what they were.

The rank disparity between the Horseman and himself made him not hesitate to follow Death's lead. Death knew this like he seemed to know so many things, placing one hand on Matthew's back and the other upraised and in his. The song started, a cello releasing a familiar melody, and they started to move. Then more instruments joined a now frenetic tune and Matthew realized he had no idea what this was.

Posture technically perfect, he whispered, barely moving his lips, "I don't know this song."

He dared a glance to the side, catching Death's smirk. "I do. Just follow me."

A voice started to sing, low and hypnotic. Matthew caught himself staring at his mouth and forcibly looked over the other man's shoulder. This was utterly insane. Why was he doing this?

Death spoke again, low and secretive. Amused. "Fer someone as tense as ye, ye dance very well."

"You knew." He tired of the game too quickly to go without saying something. Time to see if that flaw was fatal.

"I knew what ye were. Yer title, yer face, but not who ye were." The dance got more complicated, Death spinning them, testing Matthew's skills as a dancer. He kept up, grateful now for the classes Lovino had made him take while they were in college.

"Then why?"

"War picked ye out of tha crowd, not me." Matthew hid the flinch from his expression, but couldn't keep his reaction totally from his body and was grateful that Death spun him then. He was pulled back in with more force than expected and collided with him. Apparently, that was a thing for them now. "And I wanted ta."

"What? Unbalance me? Is that why you were in the meeting? To see what I would do?" The last dregs of Matthew's fury were evident in the steps his took as the chorus rose and fell. When the music calmed and he was back securely in Death's embrace, he answered him.

"I wanted ta fuck ye. And we want ta do it again."

Matthew made sure that his body stayed with Death's through this dance. He kept up as his equal, his counterpart as the music swelled and subsided. His mind was in disarray. He wanted to take him up on the offer, for the sheer pleasure of it. He really had gone too long without, as the feeling of Death's hands on him forcibly reminded him of what it felt like to be under him and all that came with that honor. But everything came with strings. Knowingly going to the bed of Death and War would come with some that could strangle him. And would it just be for one more night?

That might not be a good idea for other reasons. He had told them to ruin him and they had done almost too good of a job. Yes, War and Death had fucked him and fucked him well, but they also showed him more respect and caring than any of his previous partners. He had thought it was  _normal_  to be kicked out once the immediate afterglow faded and his partner decided he was done for the night. And the breakfast they'd had, with how they had chatted and touched casually, comfortably once they all realized how hungry they were…

It had been nice.

Even considering the fact the couple clearly had some established protocol for picking up someone for an evening, Matthew never once during their time together felt used or unappreciated, something that definitely had been a problem before. The bottom line was, if they raised his standards any more, he might always compare any future bed partners to them and that wasn't feasible.

But did he really want a regular thing with them? Did he want to put himself at the mercy of their beck and call, to be summoned when they wanted sex before going back to Italy and the life he'd made as Ghost? Because there couldn't be overlap. The Family already kept a close eye on him, the outsider even after seven years. If he started being seen as the plaything of War and Death rather than Lovino's creature, things could get ugly fast. But he was getting way ahead of himself, assuming they would want to see him outside of this weekend, which was a big leap to make.  _God, how long is this song_?

He settled on saying something as the tempo of the music called for them to be pressed against each other once more. He managed to breathe out, "There is no Fifth Horseman. But there is a Whore and I won't be yours."

To his surprise, Death laughed, smile widening obviously, eyes dancing with mirth. He spun him once more, then pulled them away and back together in a series of steps in time with the music. They circled each other, Death's touch too familiar, too lingering on him, making thought difficult. When their entire bodies were touching once more, Matthew's back was to his front and he was cradled in his arms. He kept his eyes up, trying to keep his focus soft enough to be unseeing but his attention held on a spectator in a black and red mask: War. His crimson eyes were watching them intently and Matthew had the distinct feeling of being the fabled rabbit fascinated by a snake's gaze. Death's hand pressed lightly on his side where he held him securely, fingers finding the love bite he had left on his ribs. Matthew couldn't help the shudder and hated himself for it. The music seemed to pause enough for Death to whisper in his ear, "Whores are easy ta find; you were not."

The tune burst into a climatic, perhaps last revival and they glided into furious motion, Matthew now familiar enough with Death's dance to anticipate what he would do. The movement broke Matthew's stare with War and he was grateful for it. Death's hands, when they landed back on him as they swayed as one, were both on his hips. Matthew easily positioned his hands around the back of his neck, sliding them up the lapels of his jacket to do it. He realized the telling mistake as soon as he made it.

He could have put his hands on Death's shoulders, but his action had placed them closer, barely any space between them. Their eyes held and this didn't feel like a dance anymore; it felt like foreplay. Death slowly, posessively slid his hands over him to rest on his lower back.

This wasn't business, this was personal, and Matthew didn't know how to deal with that. Shaking his head a little, he breathed as Matthew, not as Ghost, "What do you want, Death?"

The song came to a sudden slow, vocals ringing out in an undertone. Death's mouth quirked and he said, "Ye know me name, Ghost, as I know yers. When we're like this," the hands on his back pressed their bodies flush against each other, Matthew's breath catching in his throat, "I want ye ta use it."

Matthew had a millisecond of terror that his knees wouldn't hold as Alistair stepped away, hand running in obvious intention down his left arm. When his hand reached Matthew's, he raised it to his lips. Matthew watched him kiss his hand as the song ended and knew that, whatever game they were playing, he had lost.

"May I cut in?" Came Gilbert's voice as a hand came to rest on his back, his presence by Matthew's side wreaking havoc on his already shot control.

Matthew cleared his throat and pulled his hand out of Alistair's ( _Death_ , he tried to remind himself,  _they are Death and War_ ), thinking the couple wanted to dance together. "Yes, of course." He said quietly, eyes averted from either of them. He needed to get back to Lovino—

"Awesome." Drums of the next song started in an upbeat tune that reminded him of the big band era and War pulled him into a modified, casual hold. Matthew, surprised, looked up the small distance into the masked face of the arms dealer, seeing the wide smile on his face. "Come on, Ghost."

Matthew's body reacted to the music before his brain had really caught on. This song was a  _complete_  shift in tone, throwing him mentally off balance after Death had so thoroughly exposed him. War didn't seem bothered, moving them swiftly and competently into a swing dance. It was much freer than his dance with Death, unexpected in how…fun it was. It was a struggle not to smile as neither of them spoke through their quick-stepped dance. War didn't throw him around like they did in the movies, but Matthew knew from the strength of him that he could.

War's hands and eyes on him were enough that it was also a struggle to not show just how turned on he was. It was almost an echo of what they had done that night, the pair taking turns with him, Death preparing him for War. He wanted to be angry, wanted to feel like he was taken for granted or used, or anything but raging lust and undeniable enjoyment.

War dipped him back and Matthew went with it, trusting War to hold him even as he raised his knee to his hip to help balance himself. His eyes found Death watching them obviously from the edge of the dance floor as he all but exposed his neck to them both in the middle of crime royalty.  _Oh, God, what am I doing, what the_ hell _am I do—_

War pulled him out of the dip in time, holding them together for a moment as their eyes ensnared each other and it took just a tad to long for Matthew to put down his leg. Gil—War's pupils were wide and his face had same dangerous edge that forcibly reminded Matthew of what he'd felt like inside him. Matthew needed this dance to end before he completely forgot himself. He was already fighting his body from showing how affected he was. He felt hunted,  _wanted_  and it was damn near too much. He focused on the movements of his body to the music as the song drew to a close, tried not to concentrate on War's body brushing his, his hands in Matthew's.

He only barely didn't kiss War when he pulled them together one last time as the song ended. It was a near thing and War apparently knew that as he raised Matthew's left hand to his lips and kissed it. His red eyes were dark and knowing and Matthew needed to  _leave_.

He made his face as blank as he could as War leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Our room at 2?"

Matthew clinched his jaw at the assumption of his availability and willingness, but it was a question at least. Besides, the assumption was correct, so why prevaricate? War seemed to be waiting for something, still holding his hand and in his personal space. Matthew nodded slightly, just tilting his head down a little, and War released him with one last caress of his hand. Matthew didn't look at him or Death as he made as much of a beeline as possible to Lovino. He felt eyes following his every move as he tried to settle into his familiar position at Lovino's back, but he hated it all the same. Too much attention could be dangerous, destructive. He was comfortable fading into the scenery; having the metaphorical spotlight on him made him want to seek cover.

Lovino looked at him, probably would be wiggling his eyebrows at him if he didn't have his mask on. Matthew barely acknowledged the gesture as he turned his mind as best as he could back to business. They had hours before he went to them; they had yet to see the effects of whatever was in the alcoholic drinks. He doubted Pestilence would warn them needlessly. Lovino would mingle, he would follow. They would keep their eyes open for anything strange and Matthew would pretend that he wasn't glancing at the clock more than necessary.

* * *

_Lovino watched Ghost's dance with Death with everyone else. He watched as his second showed more emotion in five minutes to a room full of underworld leadership than he had shown them in the seven years since Lovino had publicly introduced him to his world. A figure appeared at his side, but he didn't startle. Years of having Ghost sneak up on him had taught him a certain kind of bodily control._

_It was Pestilence. He was dressed immaculately, his suit accentuating the dangerous musculature roping his legs, but not in a gauche way. Even with his face mostly hidden behind the mask of green, near-invisible stitched designs of belladonna apparent at this close range, he was arresting. He kept those remarkable emerald eyes on the dance as he addressed him in a secretive tone, accent making his Italian smooth and seductive._

" _You should watch your second."_

_Lovino fought the flush that came naturally to his face at being caught staring. He turned back to the dance floor, seeing his best friend with his back now pressed against Death, eyes staring out into the crowd. Lovino followed his gaze and found War staring back. Death smirked and whispered something in Ghost's ear. Whatever was said did not cause his second's steps to falter as they danced in a flurry of lethal grace. "He can handle himself."_

" _I am sure he can. But you don't know Death and War. I do and you probably want to watch him."_

_Lovino looked at the Horseman then. "Would they hurt him?"_

" _Not intentionally. They understand and respect no. Everything up to that point…they will take and take from him until there is nothing left to possess."_

" _Did that happen to their last…person?" Lovino asked delicately, not comfortable calling Ghost a conquest and he was far from anyone's toy._

" _They've never taken interest like this. They take interest in_ very _little outside of themselves and business. But they are aptly named, Lovino; we all are. War is unstoppable. Death is immovable. And your second is about to be pressed between them." Lovino tracked the way Death pressed them together, noted the way Ghost watched, fascinated, as he kissed his hand. He saw War approaching from Ghost's blind spot, a small smirk on his lips and an easy power to him that hinted at arrogance born of ability, and realized Pestilence was correct._

" _Why are you telling me this?"_ What do you gain from helping me? What does this warning cost?

_Pestilence smiled at him and something in Lovino shook at the expression. "Because I like you and we are going to be working together. Think of it as a show of good faith."_

_It was too much like the offer he had made Ghost all those years ago. Lovino allowed himself a genuine smile. He glanced at his second, seeing that he was already being swept away into an upbeat swing dance with War, the mask helping keep his expression neutral. His eyes were shinning in a way that anyone who knew him beyond his myth (a.k.a. him and Alicia, maybe War and Death) could read the surprised delight in them. "Then thank you for the warning, but let me tell you something about my second and I. We are at our best when pushed. We may bend, adapt, but we will not break."_

_Lovino looked back to find Pestilence staring at him now, unabashedly taking him in. They were supposed to be hiding that they were working together, but Ghost dancing with not one but two Horsemen had probably put any question of their association to rest. People wouldn't be asking if they knew the Horsemen, but rather the extent of their relationship. Considering how Death and War touched his second in a way no one else would dare, most would assume sex was involved at the very least. Lovino shouldn't fan the flames of that thought by getting too close to Pestilence, but that didn't stop him from continuing after a long moment with them just looking at each other. "If they are unstoppable and immovable, then what are you?"_

_Pestilence grinned at him. "Irresistible."_

Oh, yes you are _, was all Lovino could think as Pestilence bowed his neck to him and walked back into the crowd. He needed a drink, but didn't dare reach for a glass of champagne as a server walked past with a tray half full of them. The night was still early as Ghost's second dance ended and he made his way back to Lovino's side, managing to both look like he hadn't just been claimed publicly by two of the most dangerous men in the world and like he was about to crawl out of his skin from all the attention on him. Lovino shot him a knowing look and Ghost subtlety rolled his eyes at him before settling at his usual position at his back. They could talk later, but Lovino would keep Pestilence's words in mind. All of them._

* * *

It was around 23:30 when things started to get weird.

Lovino was talking to a young woman in a blue, delicate butterfly mask from Colombia, the daughter of one of the prominent cartel leaders, about the soap opera genre of all things. Matthew had largely tuned the conversation out when Mirabel said, "You're incredibly cute, Lovino. It's too bad you're taken or I might actually take you up on that flirting."

Lovino was visibly thrown and Matthew was a little confused. One, Lovino hated being called cute, especially by a beautiful woman and Mirabel certainly was that. Two, he wasn't taken, had never even hinted at having a partner in the course of their conversation. Three, he hadn't actually been flirting with her beyond his own natural charm that came from talking about something he enjoyed. In fact, he had been subdued all night, his eyes only occasionally seeking Pestilence with interest. For a night that was supposed to be a party and not work, that was damn unusual since Lovino could flirt as easily as breathing in social settings. Nonplussed, Lovino said, "Excuse me?"

"I was told that you two were definitely a thing," she said nodding to Matthew, who was now openly staring at her. "But he  _clearly_  has his hands full with that little triangle of his. Bravo,  _you_! And I saw you and Pestilence making eyes at each other with your shadow otherwise occupied. I'm not stupid enough to sleep with a Horseman's bitch." She said it all with a pleasant smile, taking a rather large sip of her champagne.

Lovino was damn near gaping at her. As was her bodyguard, so this wasn't normal behavior for the crime princess. "I don't know what you think you know," Lovino said quietly but his tone made the bodyguard step closer. Matthew might need to remove his friend from the situation because his boss had a more volatile temperament than Matthew and it wouldn't do to have him lose it here. "But I am  _no one's_  bitch."

Mirabel shrugged and Lovino cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. "Who told you that Ghost and I were together?"

She smiled. "We all were briefed on each other before attending tonight, Lovino. No one could confirm anything but he never leaves your side. Well, except when Death himself calls. Or did you send him to fuck them to get an in with the Horsemen? He must be a hell of a lay if you thought  _that_ would work."

Lovino went still, turning red from his fury at the question, the implication that he would ever ask anyone, let alone his  _Right Hand,_  to do that. But Mirabel didn't know him and was perhaps too intoxicated to realize she had overstepped. She opened her mouth to speak again when her bodyguard, a middle-aged but obviously experienced man touched her arm and said something quietly to her in Spanish. He looked at them with wary eyes and said, "My lady has had too much to drink."

She snapped back at him something cutting in Spanish, something that made him flinch before looking back at them. "It's not like it's a bad strategy, especially since they fell for the…" She looked Matthew up and down before smiling mischievously. "…Bait."

Matthew felt dirty, not because he was ashamed at what he'd done with Death and War, but for how she looked at him like he was a slab of meat that she was considering for purchase. He was used to inspiring fear, respect, not…this. But Matthew didn't get angry. He kept his expression in naturally frigid, saying nothing because nothing could change her mind and he truly didn't give a shit what she thought of him. If she thought him having sex with them was a weakness, then let her and her entire organization underestimate him.

Lovino, however, was damn near apocalyptic and needed an extraction. Matthew touched his shoulder lightly, just to remind him of where they were and what they were doing. His friend was shaking with rage, but managed to bite out, "You don't know what you're talking about and should consider minding your words. Excuse me."

Lovino stalked away after that show of restraint. He didn't curse at her once, so he was actually in control of himself. Matthew followed easily, eyes peeled and ears straining for more signs of trouble. There was a sudden outburst of laughter from somewhere farther in the room, but other conversations seemed to be continuing normally. He then thought back on what he knew of Mirabel de Santos. He didn't know much since her family's business didn't overlap much with Lovino's but he knew she was cunning and ruthless, if a bit young and inexperienced. At 20 she liked to drink and drink heavily, but that was normal at that age. Perhaps she had just had too much…alcohol.

Oh.

Oh, my.

Nearly all the attendees drank some form of alcohol, with the exception of their Muslim colleagues. If however Pestilence altered the drinks could somehow make people lose their internal filters like Mirabel had…

"Sir." Matthew said, getting Lovino's attention as they made their way to the side of the room. Lovino snagged a stuffed mushroom from a passing tray and popped it into his mouth, chewing furiously, eyes still showing how upset he was.

He swallowed and said, "I'm too sober to deal with that bullshit. You know that I would  _never_ —"

"Yes. Boss, listen. I don't think it was her fault."

"Are you kidding me? She just disrespected us  _both_  and—"

"She was drinking."

"So? She's an adult and can control her words. She should be able to handle her alcohol by now."

"Exactly."

Lovino's expression sharpened as he moved past his outrage to actually think. It only took him a few seconds to make the connection and blanch at the possible implications. "Sobriety sounds good to me."

Matthew only nodded in response.

Lovino leaned in and whispered, "What do you think the effects are? Mirabel didn't even realize what she was saying was off."

Matthew shook his head. "I don't know, but this ball is about to get messy. Not everyone drinks at the rate of a twenty year old, so it might take another hour or so…"

Lovino smiled sharply, the way he did whenever a new scheme formed in his mind. He clapped Matthew on the shoulder and said, "Ghost, I think it's about time we greeted some old acquaintances."

Rival Families were represented here, of course, and had been taking advantage of the free-flowing wine. If they were seen insulting them in front of witnesses or even spilled some sensitive information to them… "Perhaps Marcello?"

Marcello Cartinelli wasn't the youngest of the rival heirs here at twenty five, but he was the most reckless. His parents had spoiled him as a child and, while he was reasonably dangerous sober, he wasn't the center of  _public_  scandals for nothing. "I like the way you think, my friend. Let's go say hello."

Marcello was just as entertaining and forthcoming with potential (and obvious) insults as expected. In the span of less than ten minutes, the black haired, handsome-and-knew-it heir had gone from chatting pleasantly if a little drunkenly, to saying something to Lovino that was at once homophobic and a come-on. Lovino was openly bisexual, which got him some sideways glances back in Italy but most people respected him enough to never say anything. Marcello even mentioning it was breaking several social rules for their circles, but that was relatively mild. And considering that Lovino had proof that the Cartinelli heir wasn't exactly zero on the Kinsey Scale, both Matthew and Lovino took the moment as a hilarious inside joke. When Lovino hadn't been phased by the comment, Marcello started actually hitting on him increasingly aggressively, all of his words only covered by a thin veneer of insults. In any other situation, neither he nor Lovino would have let it stand, but they wanted him to dig as deep a hole as possible before acting. Still, Matthew sought Alicia in the crowd, finding her already watching them closely, and nodded her over.

It was only when he reached to touch Lovino's hair that Matthew was suddenly there, Lovino behind him. His friend  _hated_  having anyone touch his hair outside of sex, so the touch would have been far more intimate than Cartinelli probably knew. Still, Marcello had turned his honey-colored eyes to him and said, "Ah, Ghost! I see you've moved from being Vargas' enforcer to his whore. Not so sexless after all."

"You are drunk," Matthew said, because this topic had already proved to be a sensitive one for Lovino. It was one thing to get drunkards to incriminate themselves. It was another for his sober boss to lose it with said drunk. He gave Cartinelli's assigned bodyguard a significant look, but the man, Tomas, was just staring at him like he had never seen Matthew before.  _Oh, for fuck's sake. You fuck two people and suddenly everyone forgets what you are outside of the bedroom. This is why I don't fuck in Italy. And they don't even know Matthew exists!_ "You are forgetting yourself, Cartinelli."

"No, I don't think I am." Marcello stepped into his personal space and looked up into his face. Matthew had several centimeters on the man and looked down his nose at the crime prince as much as his mask allowed.

"Do not touch me," Matthew said. His mind slipped into the quiet that the potential for violence induced, noticing at the forefront of his mind all the little strategic details he needed to end this man's life in a matter of seconds.

"Tell me, Ghost," Marcello whispered. "How much did you earn by bending over for War and Death? Are you the Horsemen's personal fucktoy? When we acquire the Vargas' flesh industry next month, will you be included in the deal?" And there it was. Cartinelli just gave them all that they needed so that Matthew could do whatever he wanted to this fucker for the insult.

Then Marcello touched him. It was just the light touch of his hand to Matthew's chest, but he was moving before he truly thought about it. He grabbed his wrist and stepped, twisting and turning them until Marcello's arm was being wrenched, his wrist strained, and his throat in Matthew's other hand. It reminded him of what he had done with War, but this hold was only for causing pain and teaching a lesson. The movement had taken two seconds at most and Tomas was still reaching for a weapon when Alicia appeared at his side, knife subtly pressed against his ribs. Matthew nodded at his second and said, very calmly, "You are forgetting who  _I_  am, Marcello." He put just a little more pressure on his wrist and cut off the sound from his throat with a warning squeeze. It was easy to crush someone's windpipe if you weren't careful and it seemed Cartinelli knew that. "I am Lovino Vargas' Right Hand. You have disrespected me. You have disrespected my boss. You have disrespected the Family. And you will pay for it."

Matthew released his grip on throat as he forced Marcello off balance and pushed him to the floor, his arms not fast enough to keep from smashing his mask into the stone floor. He ended easily, "Just not right now."

He easily returned to his position at Lovino's back, not daring to look around to see how many had caught the end of the exchange. No, he kept his eyes on the men in front of him. At least Tomas seemed to slump, brow furrowed as he most likely realized what Marcello had done. Matthew wasn't sure he had heard the little slip Cartinelli had made when he was whispering, so they might not realize that key information had just been given to their enemies until sometime later. Matthew wondered if Marcello would remember what he'd said in the morning. The experiment had worked, at least; they knew that whatever Pestilence had done to the alcohol was enough to make people do stupid, stupid things.

Lovino was wearing an expression of amusement as he asked, "He  _actually_  touched you?" At Matthew's nod, he laughed and said, "Tomas, be happy your heir is still breathing. No one touches my Right Hand without his express permission. Also, teach him some manners, will you? He's too old to act like a child."

Marcello scraped himself off the floor rather ungracefully and stared at Matthew. He was relatively sure he didn't have a hair out of place while Cartinelli looked…well like he had gotten acquainted with the floor, his plaster mask cracked at the bottom. He would be bruised, but the mask was probably the only reason his nose wasn't bleeding. He looked at him with fear and maybe renewed interest? If Cartinelli was seriously attracted to him now then Matthew didn't think he had the temperament to survive being a boss. If you were a fly to a flame, then eventually you would get burned. If you were a leader  _and_  a fly, then it was only a question of how many of your people got burned with you.

There was an edge of hypocrisy to the thought since Matthew was pretty sure he was slated to be dicked down by two of the Horsemen later that night, but he wasn't the boss and he knew his limitations. Marcello did not.

He nodded at Alicia who finally sheathed her knife and melted back into the crowd with a friendly smile on her face. Tomas relaxed and said, tone more respectful that Marcello had been throughout their entire interaction, "Apologies, Mr. Vargas, Ghost."

Lovino made a noise of acknowledgement but not acceptance before turning to head back into the crowd. It took a moment for Matthew to realize that Lovino was doing his best not to start laughing obviously. "Sir?"

"My God, Ghost! I wish I could have gotten a video of that!" He friend replied quietly as they made their way to the bar and asked for bottled water. "And how he  _looked_  at you! Don't be surprised if he starts finding excuses to show up to talks with us in person now."

"That's unlikely." Matthew said quietly, making sure no one else was in hearing distance. The bartender handed them those miniature bottles and they cracked them open.

"Nah, the idiot will agonize over wanting to suck you off for a bit before actually seeing if he could do it." Lovino said crassly but in a low tone. No need to have everyone hear what he was like when he was just being himself rather than the boss.

"No, I mean his family will kill him for what he told me."

Lovino looked at him seriously, amusement disappearing. "Ghost, he's the only male heir. They would only kill him if he betrayed the family." Matthew knew this. Lovino had taught him this. "What did he tell you?"

"They plan on taking over Leo's side of things by next month. I don't know  _what_  your cousin has done, but something's not right. He's either sloppy enough to let people move into his territory without fucking  _telling_  someone in the organization that he needed help, or he's handing it over."

Lovino looked at him, eyes gone cold and hard. "We need to find out which. The former, he'll be in prison soon, anyway. The latter…"  _He dies._

Matthew nodded, mind already working to figure out inroads and contacts. Lovino quickly drained his water fishing out a tip for the bartender. Matthew knew a cue when he saw it and did the same as Lovino said, "Well, let's see what else we can learn before it this party goes tits up."

* * *

Things got real messy by 00:45.

The classical musicians packed up around midnight and, if the earlier playlist was tongue in cheek, the current one was definitely suggestive of tongues being in other places. Each song carried a beat that made you want to move to it and want to be against someone while you did it. At first, people had been surprised at the shift in tone, a couple of groups deciding to wisely call it a night. Once a couple of people decided to roll with the change as the lights dimmed, the party turned from any semblance of a formal ball to a really well-dressed club on costume night. Lovino, being Lovino, wanted to watch the drama unfold.

People lost their jackets, loosed their ties, and threw off their heels as the mood shifted to be more casual and sensual in the building. Matthew and Lovino took their jackets and ties off and undid the top button of their shirts to blend in with everyone else; no need to be identified as one of the few sober people in the room. Lovino suggested they roll up their sleeves to the elbow for the aesthetic and Matthew didn't protest. He had learned that it wasn't worth the energy to argue with Lovino over fashion choices as he usually knew best. Matthew noted that Death and War had also removed their jackets to his great distraction. He thought very little was as visually appealing as a fit man in a tailored three piece suit once the jacket was taken off. And they were  _fit_.

Other tensions began to rise as well. A couple of incidents had to be broken up as people began speaking their minds. It was really only the bodyguards who were maybe starting to think that something wasn't right, but most  _had_  drunk a significant amount of alcohol throughout the night, so they weren't sure what to do. One had dared approach Pestilence and ask about the wine. The Horsemen seemed affronted, like he would never dare do such a thing. Matthew was close enough to hear him say, "Take a sample home to test it if you really want. You'll find nothing out of the ordinary. Here, take it!"

The bodyguard had backed off, apologetic, but Matthew had paled. Because if whatever Pestilence had done to the alcohol was  _undetectable_  to normal drug testing, then he was more capable than Matthew first thought. Also, that was scary as hell because he made a habit of over-estimating people to be prepared for the worst.

By the time 00:30 rolled around, Matthew was pretty sure the bodyguards had given up trying to control their charges as at least two couples on the dance floor were openly making out when at least one in the pair was already promised to someone else. Dancing had basically devolved into grinding and there were mostly grown adults on that dance floor. Sure, relatively young adults since he was pretty sure no one middle aged were attending as guests, but adults nonetheless.

He and Lovino hadn't learned any potentially life altering secrets from the other Families, but they did get some leverage to use against them in future negotiations. They were the only Italian contingent that knew to forgo drinks, which matched up to what the Horsemen told them earlier. He didn't think they could get much more out of them, but Lovino was waiting for someone to do something exceptionally embarrassing. He might not have to wait long, but it was about time he informed him about where he would be for most of the night.

"Boss." Lovino looked at him, delight in his eyes as he watched the crime leaders of the future make fools of themselves. They were both sitting at one of the tables, doing a good job ignoring the couple who seemed to be doing more than making out about 10 meters behind them. "I do have a…meeting. Later. At 2:00."

Lovino gave him a shit-eating grin. "You don't say. So…afternoon debrief?"

Matthew couldn't completely fight off the flush that came to his face and was happy for both the mask and the low lighting. "That won't be necessary—"

"You said that about the time off. We'll have a meeting at 13:30. One that will involve wearing clothes." Matthew allowed a small shake of his head and Lovino laughed at him. "Hey, I'm happy for you. You deserve it, Ghost. Do you want to leave now?"

Matthew shot him a dirty look. "I'm not leaving you here."

"I don't need a babysitter. If you need to leave for your booty call, I'm not going to stand in your way." Matthew wanted to run a hand through his hair but didn't because a) he was still only Ghost to nearly everyone in the room and b) the ribbon keeping his mask on was over it. There had been no traditional unmasking at midnight, which Matthew was more than fine with. The fewer people that could recognize him on the street, the better.

He settled for pursing his lips a little. "Please don't call it that."

"Well, that's what it is, isn't it? Unless you've agreed to consider that maybe they could be more than that? Because, where I'm sitting, I  _did_ watch them both all but declare you theirs in front of everyone."

"It was one dance each. Hardly a declaration," Matthew murmured, the slow beat of the current song churning through his blood. He wanted to dance, but he couldn't dance to this, not here, not while working.

"It is when none of you danced with anyone else for the rest of the night and you literally put Cartinelli  _on the floor_  for just touching you."

"Cartinelli stepped over multiple lines and you know it, Lovi—sir."

When Lovino didn't say anything for a long moment, Matthew looked at him to see his friend staring at him, anger returning to his face. When he saw he had Matthew's attention, he asked, "What else did he say to you, Ghost?"

"Nothing that bears repeating, boss."

"I'm not asking as your boss." Lovino said and oh, that might be a problem. He and Lovino were similar in that people could say whatever they wanted about them, but if they went after the people they cared for heads would roll. As his boss, all he needed to know was the information Matthew had shared earlier. As his best friend…

Matthew sighed. "I'm paraphrasing, but he basically asked how much I'd been paid, called me an unimaginative name, and implied that I would be acquired as part of him taking over Leo's branch."

Lovino had gone very, very still. "What did he call you, Ghost?"

Matthew snorted a little, because it was kind of funny. "I believe it was 'the Horsemen's personal fucktoy.'" He shook his head, small curve in his lips. Honestly, if he  _was_  sleeping with all of them at once, that would be pretty impressive. Not that he wanted to, but the sheer  _logistics_  to figure that out—

Lovino stood abruptly and started stalking towards the dance floor, where they had last seen Marcello disappear about fifteen minutes prior. Matthew was up and in front of Lovino before he could get very far. His friend was  _pissed_ , enraged to the point that he was going to do something about it, and this was so not the place. They had Cartinelli right where they wanted him. There was no need to get him thinking too hard about what he'd said when he'd stepped into Matthew's face earlier and they certainly had the strategic advantage over him and his family if the information checked out. They did  _not_  need to mess that up with Lovino kicking his ass in front of everyone.

" _Move_ , Ghost," Lovino demanded.

"No.  _Think_ , Lovi. This isn't worth it."

"The  _hell_  it isn't. No one speaks to you like that. Fucking  _no one._ "

"I know. It's why I made him eat stone, remember?"

"Not enough," Lovino said, trying to move past him. Matthew caught and held him still by the shoulders. Alicia and Ric, who was carrying their discarded clothes, were suddenly there, concerned.

"Is there a problem, boss?" Ric asked, looking back and forth between them. He had never seen them disagree, let alone fight each other over anything, so he had the right of it to be wary. They only had one major disagreement over something for the past nine years and that had almost resulted in Lovino getting killed. They usually talked over everything before it got to the point of a possible problem. This wasn't a fight; it was just his friend letting his temper get the best of him.

"Yes! Get that fucker Cartinelli over here!" Lovino said, voice rising.

"No! Belay that order. Boss, calm—"

"You can't just override my orders like that, Ghost!"

"I can on matters of security  _and this is a security issue_. You know I only want to keep you alive. Let me do my job." A little over-exaggerated, sure, but keeping up Leo's branch of the business was a large part of their power base, and anything that could make them lose their advantage could possibly be fatal.

That finally got through to him and Lovino stopped struggling against his hold. He huffed and his bangs would have moved if it wasn't for his mask blocking the air flow. "Fine. Maybe you're right."

 _Maybe?_ Matthew straightened and shook his head. "You're going to be the death of me, Lovi."

Lovino winced. "You know I hate it when you say shit like that."

 _Probably because it's true. And you know I hate it when you do impulsive shit like this._  Matthew would have said that out loud, but they were no longer alone and he tried not to look too independent when they were in mixed company. Most people saw him as a monster kept on a very short leash. If they found out there was virtually no leash at all, they might decide to take their chances trying to kill him more than they already did. So he bowed his head and said, "Apologies, sir."

"You know, I almost believe you when you say that," said Pestilence from behind Lovino, causing his boss to whirl around. He was hopefully one of the few other people in the room who could have understood the conversation with the exception of the rival heirs and their people, but no one else was in ear shot, though they had attracted some visual attention from the sidelined bodyguards. The Horseman smiled at his friend.

"Pestilence! I didn't see you," Lovino said, tone a little too friendly. Matthew exchanged glances with Alicia and even Ric; they all recognized their boss'  _I'm trying to get laid_  tone.

"Lovi, was it?" Lovino probably turned red if the sudden widening of Pestilence's smile was anything to go by. "I just wanted to make sure things were alright. You seemed a little worked up."

Lovino stiffened. "It tends to happen if someone insults or disrespects my Right Hand."

"Ghost?" The man looked at him, surprised. "No offense, but insulting you seems damned stupid."

Matthew allowed himself a small smile. "None taken; it's true."

"And you were going to defend his honor, Lovi? Can I call you that?" Matthew was pretty sure the Horseman could call his boss just about anything he wanted as long as he kept talking to him like that. Lovino was a relatively simple man when it came to picking lovers; he saw someone he liked and went after them. If he liked more than just how they looked (i.e. for their mind or personality), he was all but useless when it came to personal conversations with them. He was the consummate professional in business dealings but outside of it…well, only Matthew was more useless than he was, but that wasn't saying much.

"Yes. And of course. No one treats my second with anything less than respect, especially over his choice of bed partners."

Pestilence seemed genuinely startled at that and looked back to Matthew. "Wait, someone mistreated you because you slept with  _War_ and  _Death_?"

Matthew resisted the urge to shrug. "It's complicated. I handled it."

"Not for what he called you, you didn't," Lovino grumbled at him. He felt Alicia and Ric jolt in surprise, neither aware of what exactly had set Matthew off when Cartinelli had been in front of him or why exactly Lovino was in a rage when they had approached. Sure, Alicia had seen him touch Matthew lightly, but she certainly hadn't heard what he had said. 

"It's. Fine. I got what we needed from him."

"Are you talking about the guy you hurt earlier who's been staring at you on and off for the past hour? Because if you want him to live, never tell Death and  _especially_  War about that." Pestilence said, tone serious.

"It's none of their concern." Matthew bit out.

Pestilence raised his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying. Don't say no one told you." He then focused on Lovino again. "I wanted to come over and see how you were doing. You've been enjoying yourselves, right?"

"Mostly. It's been…informative." Lovino said, smiling at Pestilence.

"Perfect. I'll leave you alone then."

The Horseman started to turn to walk away when Lovino blurted, "Would you like to dance?"

"You…want to dance? With me?" He asked, strangely hesitant. Lovino had made it pretty clear that he was interested in him, so Matthew was confused at his befuddlement.

"Erm, yeah. I do. It's fine if you don't, I only—"

"Yes." Lovino beamed at the man and took his hand to lead him towards the others. Matthew watched them go for a moment, greatly amused at this turn of events and happy for his friend before refocusing on business.

He looked at Ric and Alicia. "We're debriefing tomorrow at 13:30. I will be unavailable until then." Alicia grinned at him. "It looks like our fearless leader may be unavailable until then as well."

"Boss," Ric started. "I don't need to know details but…were you with the two Horsemen the other night?"

Matthew clinched jaw but answered, "Yes."

Ric nodded and some tension faded from his posture. "It's none of my business, but you were…off before that. I'm happy for you, sir."

 _Yep,_ definitely _can't go three years without sex again_. If Ric, the good man but pretty traditional head of security, was happy that he had a gay threesome with a married couple because he had been  _better_  after, then three years was about two too long for him to go without the touch of another person. "Thank you, Ric. As you can probably guess, my preferences aren't well known."

"That's what happens if you go without for  _three years_." Alicia said under her breath, but Matthew and certainly Ric could still hear her.

"Lord have mercy, sir,  _really_? That explains so much… Sorry. No offense, sir, but that might not be the case anymore.  _Especially_ after what you did to Marcello. That kid will run his mouth just about any way he can for what you did to him."

"Cartinelli isn't my concern. He's said enough. And I don't care that people know I'm gay. No one's ever asked me directly, so I never mentioned it. It was amusing that everyone thought I was asexual, but I'm not going to hide the truth."

Alicia stepped a little closer to him. "Boss, what did he call you?"

"A lot of things, but I'll share what's relevant in the meeting tomorrow. We have our work cut out for us if what he said was correct. It's late, however, and as soon as Lovino is ready to go, you're both to get some sleep. Write down any observations you thought were important before you rest, though. Normal protocol for nights when Lovino goes off with someone, but have the guard bring him weapons so he doesn't walk around after unarmed." Both he and Lovino were currently weaponless, as was negotiated, while Alicia and Ric only wore blades.

"Yes, sir."

"Got it, boss."

"In the meantime, we can only wait for Lovino to figure out if he's sleeping alone tonight or not. Is there anything either of you think I need to know now?"

"No, sir."

"You have at least six people staring at you like they want to eat you alive, boss." Alicia said, flippantly.

Matthew crossed his arms. "Yeah, right, A. Anything  _relevant_ that I need to know?" He glanced down at his watch. 01:15. If he wanted to shower and change before seeing War and Death… Gilbert and Alistair, he needed to leave here soon.

"People wanting you is always relevant, Ghost." Alicia said flatly and Matthew cursed himself.

"I understand, but I meant about security. Are there any immediate threats to anyone's safety?"

"No, sir." She replied, subdued in the way she often was when she said something that reminded them both about her past. He knew that it was her ongoing way of working through her trauma, but he didn't like how withdrawn she got when she dwelled on it, so he tried to distract her with an attempt at humor.

"If it helps, I really don't think  _six_  people would be looking at  _me_  that way." Both Alicia and Ric just stared at him. "What?"

"Ghost," Alicia started. " _Neither_  of us are attracted to men but we can both say you are attractive." Ric blinked in surprise at the information, but took it in stride, nodding.

"Several people took notice when you knocked Cartinelli down a peg, sir, and not out of fear."

"And when you danced. No one who knew of you knew you could dance like that, boss."

"They were probably just surprised," Matthew's eyes strayed to the dance floor, checking on Lovino while giving him as much privacy as he could in a crowded room. He wasn't sure they were moving to the music at all, probably too focused on kissing each other to realize they stopped moving. When one of the Horseman's hands came up to run his fingers through Lovino's hair and Lovino's only response was to kiss him harder, Matthew knew that his friend at least was a sure thing. He looked back at Alicia and Ric. "Looks like the boss is going to have company tonight. We should be leaving soon." He held out his hands for his jacket and tie and Ric obliged him. "Thank you, Ric."

"We need to back up for a second here. Are you telling me you don't think you're attractive?"

"A, it's not like I think I'm repulsive. I do alright."

"Ghost, I know we've talked about this already, but this is just another reason you shouldn't measure the time between bouts of sex with someone else in increments of  _years_."

"Our boss comes up for air, finally," Matthew mumbled under his breath as Lovino and Pestilence emerged from the dance floor. Lovino approached them quickly while the Horseman went off in another direction, towards Famine it looked like. Matthew glanced down at his watch. 01:22. Lovino looked flushed, lips swollen and eyes bright. "Welcome back, sir."

"Fuck off, Ghost. We're leaving." Matthew wanted to grin at him but resisted the urge.

"Perfect timing," he said, eyes seeking War and Death. War was walking towards Famine and Pestilence, smile on his face. When he couldn't immediately spot his counterpart, he looked up to the second floor. There was Death, surveying and cataloging everything happening in the room, the mask both hiding the extent of his stunning beauty and emphasizing the dramatic nature of his coloring. War's did the same but in different way.

Death caught his gaze and smiled slowly at him. Lovino said dryly from his side, "Ghost, you're going to see him in less than an hour. Can we go?"  _Shit_. Matthew looked away, glancing at War to find red eyes watching him now. "Him, too!"

"Sorry, sir." Matthew turned from them and to the door. There was a short hallway to where the valet was. There was a line, but Pestilence stood at the side, waving at them when they appeared at the door.

Lovino went to him, leaving their sides with, "I'll see you three tomorrow."

"13:30," Matthew said in confirmation. A black Ferrari pulled to the front of the building and Pestilence stepped forward. Lovino shot the Horseman a look that made Matthew fear that his friend's lack of self-control meant they were going to drive off the road somewhere. His friend loved riding in fast cars, especially if they were Italian.

"The boss had no chance did he?" Ric asked, almost to himself.

"None at all," Alicia answered.

Matthew said nothing as they waited for their turn. Lovino stopped eye-fucking Pestilence long enough to give Matthew one last look as he climbed into the car and they sped away. Matthew smiled a little as he handed his ticket stub to the young valet who then took off at a run towards a parking garage of some kind.

"Ghost." Matthew turned his head to find War and Death, but they had changed their clothes slightly, though it couldn't have been more than 10 minutes since they had left the room. Instead of dress shoes, it looked like they were wearing boots under their pants. They each wore worn leather jackets and their masks were missing. They were carrying helmets.

He had a thing for motorcycles.

Matthew locked his now weak knees and said, "War. Death."

Two people in the shadows, presumably the Horsemen's security, ran off towards the rest of the parked cars. "We want to change the time." War said, coming to stand next to him.

Matthew licked his lips. "To when?"

"Now," Death said from his other side. He leaned in to whisper, "I want that ta be tha last time ye use our titles tonight."

"Yes." He couldn't say  _yes, sir_ , not here, not in the open, but he did draw the 'S' out, just a little. Alistair grinned at him.

"Do you know how to ride a motorcycle, Ghost?" Gilbert asked, watching them intently.

"Yes, though I haven't ridden in a long time." The sound of bikes revving, one after the other, sounded in the through the air.

"Ride with me? We don't have an extra helmet but you can use mine. He tends to drive like physics are a suggestion and needs it more."

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

Gilbert gave his husband a pained look. "I would much prefer you stay that way."

"That sounds good." Matthew said, in response to both of Gilbert's statements. "You don't need the visor?"

He shook his head, "We're not going far or fast.  _Right_ , Death?"

"Yeah, sure, but only because ye have a passenger." Matthew let their playful bickering wash over him as he reached up and undid the ties of his mask. He hoped the accessory didn't leave too many red marks on his face. He pulled the thing off and ruffled a hand through his hair.  _Finally_.

"Ghost," came his second's voice and he turned and looked back at her. She held out a hair tie in her open palm, both offering the item and a place for Matthew to put the mask.

"Thank you, A." He took the tie, lost the mask, and quickly secured his hair back. "Same instructions I gave you for the boss apply to me. Until tomorrow."

Two motorcycles pulled to a stop, both black BMW sports models. Alistair put his helmet on and walked towards the newer looking one. Gilbert handed Matthew his helmet as the bikes were turned off and dismounted by their team. Gilbert then got on, turned on the bike, and motioned Matthew forward. He slung his leg over and sat down, arms snaking around to hold Gilbert as he settled onto the machine, feeling the power of it. Alistair got settled and Matthew couldn't help saying out loud, "You are so getting laid tonight."

"We knew that, Mattie." Came Alistair's voice through an intercom that Matthew hadn't noticed, startling him. Gilbert rubbed his arms at his flinch but Alistair just laughed into his speaker as they revved the engines and started into the night.


	5. Chapter 4: New Title

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the M version to avoid the mess of sex. Mind the new tags.

Once Alistair’s laughter died out, Matthew found himself in an awkward position. They had a solid ten minutes of travel if Gilbert was serious about obeying traffic laws. That meant a good chunk of time where he had an open line of communication to the man he had alternatively been enraged at and lusting after for most of the past 24 hours. He had questions, _so many_ questions, about what was going on, what the actual fuck Pestilence had done to the drinks, and why they had orchestrated the ball in the first place. More immediately pressing and most concerning for him was what exactly Alistair and his husband wanted from him.

Matthew _had_ asked on the dancefloor, of course. Alistair hadn’t quite dodged the question with Gilbert’s interruption, but he wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing. Alistair had denied that they were expecting him to only be available for sex, had said that he had been hard to find, but that didn’t explain what they had been looking for in the first place. And _why_ in the world did they both need to dance with him in front of everyone? They hadn’t even danced with each other! They were supposed to be working together professionally, outside of whatever this sex thing was. Did they not realize what those two dances had done to his reputation? It was clear that very few believed he had gone to their bed for no gain but the pleasure alone. Not everyone was as reckless as Cartinelli, but even glimpsing who he was under the surface made people question how much of his myth was mere fabrication.

But what other choice did he have? He could hardly have turned down the offer to dance. Alistair was too knowing in everything he did not to have a reason for that dance beyond getting Matthew to talk to him. Everything about that set-up, from the song to Gilbert being in the exact right spot to both catch Matthew’s eye and sweep him into the next dance before he had a chance to collect himself, screamed of planning careful enough to seem coincidental. If Matthew was being perfectly honest with himself, he could admit that Alistair and Gilbert hadn’t needed the dances to convince him to come to their bed tonight. They could have just asked, stared at him for a bit, and his resolve would have collapsed like a house of cards. It all seemed like so much effort just to get him in bed and none of it made _sense_.

“Mattie,” Alistair asked through the intercom. Matthew flinched again but tried to minimize his physical reaction to not startle Gilbert.

“Yes?”

“Are ye still mad at me fer not sayin’ who we were that night?” The tone wasn’t quite apologetic but it was…hesitant. Like he didn’t know the answer to this one and was unsure of his welcome.

Matthew sighed. “No, Alistair, I’m not. You didn’t owe me anything. You still don’t. And what were you going to do; slip in between rounds that you two were part of the Four Horsemen? I’m actually surprised you even gave me time to get used to the idea. You could have just let me run into you at the ball and I would have been a wreck. I don’t know why you two showed up to the meeting, though. Famine could have told us what we needed.”

Alistair was quiet for a moment then said, “I thought it was tha best way ta tell you in relative privacy and surprise Gilbert. I like surprisin’ him an’ I don't get tha chance ta do so often. And I didn't want ta introduce ye at tha ball when he wouldn't know not ta say yer name.”

“…Thank you.” At least _that_ checked out and that last thought went both ways; who War and Death were under their titles and masks was more of a secret than Ghost’s sexual preferences and name, for sure. “You two really are married then?”

“Aye, workin’ on four years noo.” Matthew could hear the smile in his voice and it brought a bittersweet one to his own. They had something real, something that would last; something Matthew had long since accepted was forever out of his reach. Matthew hugged Gilbert just a little tighter. “Why do ye ask?”

“You weren’t wearing your rings.”

“…Right. Well, tha majority of people at tha party didn’t know we were married or even together. We work separately and wear our rings, so some think we’re married but don't know ta whom. We’re pretty careful when we go out as a couple ta not run inta people who know who we are. Harder ta use us against each other if they don't know we’re married.”

That explains why they hadn’t danced together at the party but raised other questions. “You told me. You introduced Gil to me as your husband even though you knew you were going to run into me at the ball at least.”

“Tha’s different. We never lie about bein’ married ta people we take ta bed fer a night an’ ye knew how ta keep a secret.”

 _For a night_. “Oh,” was all Matthew could say to that statement, the confirmation of what this was. That was fine; it was certainly more than he ever expected to get. He would take what he could. Hadn’t he thought earlier that it was wiser not to see them beyond this weekend, that them wanting more from him was a fantastical leap to make?

This was fine.

“Wha’s wrong?” Alistair asked and Matthew saw him turn his head to look obviously look at him.

“Watch the road!” Matthew said into the microphone, alarmed.

Alistair turned his head back to the street as they came around a turn, the hotel in sight. He asked, tone serious now, “Matthew, wha’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” It wasn’t like he was expecting anything different, so Matthew had no reason to feel dejected. No, nothing was wrong. However, with the knowledge that this was indeed the last time they would be together like this, Matthew was going to fuck them like it was his last night on Earth. What he had said in the club wasn’t an exaggeration; he really had no idea when he would have an opportunity to get out of Italy after this. He was still feeling only the smallest effects of the other night, but it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he expected, the massage and bath doing wonders for his recovery time.

This was fine.

Alistair didn’t say anything more as they pulled into the garage of their building and stopped in front of the door. Two people dressed in matching black uniforms that all their security seemed to wear stepped forward. They turned off the bikes and Matthew dismounted, unsure as to protocol here. The cab ride they had shared from the club was a vague memory that was mostly overruled by Matthew’s determination to spend most of his time making out with Gilbert and Alistair. They hadn’t exactly taken the time to explain security formalities.

Alistair removed his helmet and handed it to the man who came up to him with a smile. Gilbert got off the bike and easily greeted the person who came up to them. “Hey, Chris. Ghost, could you give them the helmet?”

Matthew just removed the headgear and smiled at the guard, noting their up-tilted eyes and dark brown hair for future reference. “Thank you,” he said, handing off the helmet. Gilbert immediately took his hand and pulled him towards the door where Alistair was waiting. “In a rush?” Matthew asked, teasing.

Gilbert smirked at him. “You know I’m not the best at being patient. But Scottie’s worse.”

“I am not,” Alistair answered automatically as they went through the automatic doors to call the elevator. He was watching Matthew steadily and Matthew did his best to look innocent, smiling at him and meeting his gaze. That just made Alistair narrow his eyes and step fully in front of him.

Alistair opened his mouth to say something, but the elevator doors opened and Gilbert said, herding them into the space, “Come on. Whatever’s happening can wait until we’re upstairs.”

They all got in and Alistair looked away from Matthew finally to turn to Gilbert, who had released Matthew’s hand to crowd his husband up against the wall of the elevator. The doors closed and they got moving, Alistair’s hands coming to rest on Gilbert’s hips and a smirk on his face, eyes now sparkling in amusement. “Can I help ye?”

Gilbert’s answer was to kiss him hard, forcing a surprised sound from Alistair. Matthew was startled and, remembering Alistair’s words, sought the usual camera in elevators. There was one in the corner, but it was covered by something. Matthew turned back to watch them as Gilbert pulled away abruptly and said quietly but emphatically, “I _hated_ that. I hate acting like I’m not in love with you and we’re not together.”

Alistair’s gaze softened and he brought up a hand to cup Gilbert’s cheek. “I know, love. I’ll give ye back yer ring as soon as we get ta tha room.”

 _Oh_ , Matthew thought, looking away from them. This felt…private, something he had no business seeing, especially as their temporary diversion. The elevator dinged open at their floor and Matthew only barely kept himself from jumping out of the space. He did stride down the hallway to their door, wanting to give them time alone if they wanted it.

It turns out they didn’t since Gilbert and Alistair followed closely behind him. Gilbert smiled wryly at him. “Looks like you’re in a rush, too.”

Matthew managed a small smile and a shrug, desperately trying to ignore how watching them love each other made him _want_ , damn near ache with longing. It wasn’t his place, wasn’t the role he had agreed to take by coming with them here. He could be himself with them, as Ghost but also just Mattie. That was enough. It would have to be enough. He wouldn’t let anything ruin the opportunity for what it was, _especially_ his ridiculous feelings.

Gilbert was looking at him strangely now, but opened their hotel door and motioned Matthew inside. He tried to grin at him as he walked past. “I’ll be right back,” he said, losing his shoes and heading straight for the restroom. He hadn’t had the chance to wash up like he had been planning to do in his room. He didn’t really need a shower since he had taken a thorough one right before dressing for the evening, but he did at the very least want to take the concealer off of his neck. Plus, it would give him a chance to get himself together and give the couple time to exchange rings or something.

He kept in motion, making sure he didn’t have time to think as he laid his tie, cufflinks, and jacket between the two sinks and unbuttoned his shirt far enough to reveal his undershirt. Matthew considered taking that off, too, but it decided against it. After thinking for a moment, he also took off his socks; they were always the most awkward thing to get rid of in the heat of the moment. He then grabbed a folded washcloth and ran water over it. He buried his face in the cold cloth, hoping that it would help him concentrate on the here and now.

Matthew was here with Gilbert and Alistair, who knew both sides of him and still invited him to share their bed. Even though it was only for one more night, it was so much more than Matthew ever expected. He should be shaking out of his skin with excitement. But when he pulled the cloth down and off his face and met his own eyes in the mirror, they looked wide and…sad. Matthew’s eyes tightened as his jaw clinched in annoyance. He went back to focusing on washing up. Once things got started, he would be more than busy enough to get that helpless, _useless_ look out of his eyes.

He focused on scrubbing the make-up off of his skin and was on his second pass when something in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Matthew lowered the cloth and reached out to grab a red toothbrush, still in its package, that seemed to be the same brand as the yellow and blue ones sitting in a cup on the back corner of the counter. Matthew gave a low, humorless laugh and cursed himself for being this predictable, this obvious.

Someone appeared at the still open doorway and Matthew said, staring at the brush in his hand, “Were you that sure I would say yes?”

“We had hoped you would and didn’t want to be unprepared,” Gilbert said as he came further into the room, barefoot by the sound of his movement. He hugged Matthew from behind, wedding band gleaming in the light, and stared at him in the mirror. Matthew didn’t meet his eyes as he relaxed into the embrace and set the toothbrush and washcloth down. He needed to stop thinking. For that to happen, Gilbert needed to touch him more. “Do you not like the color?”

Matthew’s mouth twisted. “Red’s my favorite color,” he said, finally mustering the courage to meet Gilbert’s eyes. His brow was furrowed and the corners of his mouth were lower than normal, like he was concerned or confused.

Gilbert kissed his temple and said, “Then all your toothbrushes will be red, okay?”

Matthew startled at that, body tensing because what he just said made absolutely no sense. “What?”

“For when you come to see us? You’re of course welcome to bring your own but mine are always blue and Scottie’s are yellow or green so—“

“You want to see me again?” Matthew interrupted, needing this one question answered. He turned around so he was looking directly into Gilbert’s face. “After tonight, I mean.”

Gilbert frowned at him, “Of course. Why are you surprised?”

They stared at each other for a second, Matthew still not quite processing what was happening, until Gilbert turned from him and headed for the door, saying, “Alistair!”

“Wha’? What’s wrong?” Matthew followed Gilbert out of the room to see Alistair sitting upright on the couch, the bedroom through open doors to the right. The suite really was quite nice, done in understated cream and milk chocolate, but Matthew was far more concerned with the room’s occupants. Alistair looked between him and Gilbert.

Gilbert wasn’t yelling, but frustration was clear in his voice as he said, “Why is Mattie under the impression that we don’t want him?”

Alistair raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I have no clue. We made our stances pretty clear at tha ball, I thought.”

“No,” Matthew said quietly, stepping closer to them. “As far I understand, you both want to fuck me for one night. Alistair said that you didn’t want a whore but he didn’t mention anything beyond that. I’m guessing I was wrong?”

Alistair sighed and ran a hand down his face while Gilbert said, “Yes, you are. I think we need to talk before we do anything.”

“…Okay. About what?” Matthew asked, afraid to hope for what they might say.

Alistair said, like it was the simplest thing in the world, “We want ta date ye, Mattie, on an exclusive basis. We want ye ta be our boyfriend.”

The words were like a blow to the head, stunning him for a moment.

 _Yes_ , he wanted to say, wanted to fucking shout. He had been trying not to dwell on how hungry for more of them he had been, trying not to think _what if_ : What if he had met them in a different place, or if they had been different people? What if they had looked at him and had been the first ones to say, _yes, we want to keep him_ , to not move easily out of his life? Only Lovino had ever chosen him and that had been for other reasons besides who Matthew was. He had chosen Alicia and the bond they shared was different. No one he had been interested in had ever wanted him romantically, not on any permanent basis, and Matthew wanted to know what that felt like. And for Gilbert and Alistair of all people to be the ones to suggest this…

But things weren’t adding up. There were reasons why no one had wanted him. He was twenty-nine years old for heaven’s sake. Someone would have shown interest by now if there hadn’t been some inherent flaw with him. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle the strain of watching these two men lose interest in him.

Then again, if things went to shit, he probably wouldn’t live long enough to see that happen.

“Matthew?” Gilbert hedged and Matthew realized he had just been looking blankly at them both and tried to get whatever emotion that was on his face under control. “Any thoughts?”

“Why?” It was the crux of his confusion, his hesitance. He didn’t understand why they would ask this of him. Alistair had said that he hadn’t been easy to find but…why him?

“Why we want to date you?” Gilbert asked as if he was clarifying a question that didn’t make any sense.

“Yes.”

“Because we’re not insane enough to let you go without at least trying to hold on to you?”

When Matthew just frowned at Gilbert, Alistair said, “Mattie, why are ye convinced that we wouldn't want ta be with ye?”

“Well, I-I’ve never…” Matthew licked his lips and looked to the side, not sure how to make them understand when they seemed to be speaking a different language.

“What? Been with two people before? Been with anyone in our business?” Alistair asked, clearly just throwing out possibilities. Matthew winced.

“Dated. I’ve never dated anyone before.” Their faces went slack with shock, Gilbert even going so far as to sit down on the sofa opposite Alistair.

“Matthew, _why_ in God’s name haven’t you?” Gilbert said, sounding like a stiff wind would knock him over.

Matthew stayed standing but leaned casually against the wall, as if what he was about to say meant nothing to him. They probably needed to hear the whole of it, since they were so confused. Maybe they would understand why they shouldn’t want him afterwards. “No one’s ever wanted me.”

He made his voice as flat as possible before continuing, eyes tracing the subtle pattern of the carpet. “Yes, I’ve been busy, but there were a lot of reasons I went without sex for so long. I actually hate one-night stands and you can guess why. You’ve also probably guessed from the other night that I don’t have a lot of experience. That’s because I’ve only ever been with six people, excluding you two. Exactly one of them ever expressed interest in fucking me again and he made it very clear that was my only use to him.”

His mouth twitched into a bitter smile at remembering Nate. He had been twenty-one, insecure about being a virgin, and so relieved to find someone who wanted him that he had let the association continue for far too long. It was never typically abusive; he always stated plainly what he wanted from Matthew and that was available sex. If Matthew didn’t want him, he would find someone else without another thought. He had been the first and last person he had topped before Alistair, in part because he had let Matthew try it once before declaring that Matthew was better taking dick than giving it. It had been a blow to his self-esteem, sure, but Matthew genuinely enjoyed bottoming so he hadn't minded too much at the time. Now he wouldn’t tolerate being treated like that, would probably kill the guy who tried, but Nate was a life lesson learned.

“So you can understand why I’m confused,” Matthew finished, daring to look at them then. Alistair was still shocked, but there was horror edging out the surprise. Gilbert was similarly situated but also…furious.

“Who, Matthew? Who treated you like that?” Gilbert said, voice facially calm, but the expression in his eyes and an undercurrent in his tone betraying his outrage.

Matthew blinked at the questions, at his reaction. “It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago. But do you see why I’m confused? Why I need you to give me actual reasons? Because I’m drawing a blank right now. What could I possibly offer you?”

“You, Matthew,” Gilbert said. That didn’t explain anything.

“Mattie,” Alistair started as he stood, voice gentle. “We knew ye were special before ye tried ta leave that night, knew we wanted ta see ye again, that once wouldn't be enough. And in tha morning, ye were tha most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. Ye were attractive enough when I only knew ye on paper as Ghost but after meetin’ ye…” Alistair shrugged. “We want ye ta be ours.”

Gilbert nodded. “I wanted to hold on to you after fucking you, yes. But seeing you at that meeting, watching your reactions and how you worked, made the plans concrete. We don’t know each other well yet, but we want to know you, all of you. We want to see you frequently, go out, and have lazy mornings. We want to fuck you and sleep together after. That’s dating, having a relationship. We both hate the thought of you being sexually or romantically involved with someone else and are more than willing to stop bringing other people into our bed. That’s exclusivity. So, we’re asking you to be our boyfriend, significant other, whatever you want to call it. Are those reasons enough?”

Matthew stared at him and couldn’t stop himself from breathing, “Yes.”

“Yes ta what, Mattie?” Alistair asked, coming closer.

Everything that they had said was sinking in, warming some abandoned, lonely corner in him, and Matthew started to smile. “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Both Gilbert and Alistair’s faces lit up at the sentence, Alistair grinning as he pressed Matthew against the wall. “And we’ll be yers,” he said as he leaned down a little and kissed him.

There would be time to work out logistics and details of how exactly they were going to do this later. There would be time for everything else later. Alistair and Gilbert just offered him the world on a platter and he was going to take it.

Matthew surged up into the kiss, allowing himself to be ecstatic, so fucking thrilled he damn near didn’t know what to do with himself. He ran his hands up Alistair’s torso, admiring the cut of the suit he was still partially wearing, before working on undoing his tie. He wanted him, wanted them  _now_ , hungry for Alistair and Gilbert in a way that was all too familiar.

Alistair felt that desperation and fed it, shifting to put a leg between Matthew’s and running teasing fingers down the line of his neck before deftly undoing his shirt buttons. Matthew moaned into his mouth as his hips jerked involuntarily against his thigh. He didn’t bother throwing the tie off of Alistair’s neck, letting the cloth hang there as he concerned himself with the buttons. He was feeling rather uncoordinated and, by the time he had gotten two of the blasted things undone, Alistair was pushing his shirt down his arms. He let it fall and was almost immediately pulling back from the kiss and lifting his arms to get the undershirt off, struggling a little because his hair was still tied back and Alistair hadn’t given him a lot of room. He made a noise of frustration and Alistair asked, teasingly, “Need help, baby?”

Matthew got the damn shirt off and glared playfully into his grinning face. In retaliation, deliberately arched into him and rolled his hips against him. He bit his lip and whispered, “Yes, sir.”

Alistair stopped smiling, kissing him deeply as his hands immediately worked to undo his trousers. Alistair moved his leg out of the way long enough to push both his pants and underwear to his ankles before replacing it, pressing his fully clothed body against Matthew’s bare one. Matthew gasped, eyes flying open, and managed to say, “Your suit—“

“Don't care.” Alistair started kissing him again while his hands kneaded his ass in a way that was driving Matthew beyond all reason. He barely had the wherewithal to try the buttons again. He was honestly about two seconds away from just ripping the shirt open when Alistair suddenly pressed in tighter against him, his hands flying to brace himself against the wall and his mouth letting loose a quiet gasp.

Matthew felt hands brush his stomach as Gilbert pressed himself against Alistair’s back. He opened his eyes to see Gilbert nipping at Alistair’s neck as he said, amused, “You have this tendency to hog Mattie at the start, _Sch_ _ätzchen_.” His hands rucked up Alistair’s shirt and probably slid under it, but Matthew was too busy meeting his gaze to really check. “At least let me kiss our boyfriend before you make him lose himself completely.”

Alistair hummed and said, “Sorry, love.” He turned his head to offer a kiss to Gilbert who seemed to take it gladly, one of his hands leaving the wall to lazily trace Matthew’s collarbone and chest. Matthew caught his breath and lightly touched what he could of Gilbert’s arms, reaching blindly behind Alistair to find Gilbert’s chest bare.

Matthew kissed Alistair’s jaw lightly and offered, “You may be a bit overdressed, sir.”

Alistair broke the kiss with Gilbert and turned to look a Matthew, bringing a hand up cup his cheek. “Yer probably right, Mattie.” He nipped at Matthew’s lips as he pulled his thigh from him and continued. “Don't come until I say you can.”

Matthew stiffened, lust lashing through him and eyes going unfocused. “Yes, sir.”

Alistair gave him a toothy, vicious smile of pleasure. “Good boy.”

He shivered as Gilbert let Alistair go and the latter moved to the side, releasing Matthew. Gilbert still had a pair of boxer briefs on (which Matthew truly had no clue how they were actually containing his dick) but otherwise left the rest of him open to Matthew’s touch.

He tried to step forward only to stumble at the pants still around his ankles. Matthew blushed as Gilbert easily caught him, laughing a little. “Careful, _Liebling_. Here.” Without further ado, he leaned down and literally swept him off his feet, Matthew’s clothes falling off his legs easily.

Matthew couldn’t remember ever being carried like this and threw his arms around Gilbert’s neck in a near panic. “Gil!”

He raised an eyebrow at him as he strode easily to the bed. “Yes?”

Matthew, realizing that he was secure in Gilbert’s hold, was unsuccessfully fighting a smile. “I _can_ walk you know.”

“For now.” Gilbert thankfully didn’t drop him into bed, the sheets already pulled back so they wouldn’t make a mess of the comforter. Instead, he slowly lowered Matthew’s legs to the bed as he straightened him, leaving him kneeling just a bit taller than him like this and pressed against him. Matthew shuddered at the feeling.

“Is there a reason I won’t be able to walk later?” He didn’t give him a chance to answer, kissing him softly and happily allowing Gilbert to dominate the kiss in response.

For all the roughness of the kiss, Gilbert’s hands were gentle on him as he let down Matthew’s hair and explored him. The dichotomy was startling and Matthew rubbed against his stomach with a whine.

Gilbert carefully urged him to lay back on the bed, moving so Gilbert could climb in after. Kneeling between Matthew’s spread legs, Gilbert began kissing down his neck and body, leaving Matthew gasping and moaning, particularly when Gilbert decided on places to bite and suck a mark into his skin. Alistair joined them and stifled Matthew’s cries with a kiss, held his wrists immobile against the bed.

It was all too much and not enough. Matthew lived for their attention, the feeling of their mouths and hands on him, but he wanted to be fucked _now._ Or at least to come. Gilbert had placed his hands on Matthew’s hips to hold him down and stop any attempts to grind against him. He only made it about halfway down his chest before Matthew remembered something crucial. He tore his mouth from Alistiar’s and cried out, “Daddy, please!”

Alistair grinned down at him as Gilbert’s entire body froze at those two words. He looked up, eyes dark, and asked, “Yes, baby? What do you need?”

“Touch me? Please?”

“I am touching you, Mattie,” Gilbert said, one hand emphasizing his words by moving from his hip and squeezing his ass. Matthew gasped, writhed as much as he was able, and Alistair kissed his cheek.

“Ye have ta be specific with us, baby boy,” he explained. “Ye have ta tell us exactly what ye want.”

He blinked, trying to think, both about what he wanted and how to phrase his request so he could actually get it. “Daddy—“ he started, figuring it certainly wouldn’t hurt, “—please touch my dick and please get my ass ready to take your cock. I want you both to fuck me.” He looked at Alistair, then. “If that’s okay, sir?”

Alistair stared at him and smiled slowly. He rubbed at his jaw and said, “Tha’ was very good, Mattie. But there’s somethin’ ye need ta know about us.”

“Matthew?” Gilbert asked, drawing his attention. “When was the last time you got tested?”

The question was not something he expected but he managed to answer, “Two months ago. Blood work and all. I’m good.” It hadn’t been because he’d had sex, but rather that he couldn’t always predict where blood sprayed. It was good to be cautious.

Gilbert and Alistair exchanged a long look that had them both grinning worryingly. Alistair said, “We got tested last month and are also clear.”

“Mattie,” Gilbert said slowly, hands moving to the outsides of his thighs. “When was the last time someone sucked you off without a condom?”

Matthew couldn’t do anything to stop the sound of pure want from rising in his throat or the fact that his dick twitched at the words. “N-never.”

Gilbert just smiled sharply at him before kissing his way down Matthew’s torso. Alistair tilted his chin up so that his wide eyes met anticipatory green ones, and said, “What ye need ta know about us, baby, is that if ye give us _any_ opportunity ta get somethin’ from ye, we _will_ take it, as much as we want, until ye stop us.”

Gilbert gripped the base of his dick and took him into his mouth without further warning. Matthew screamed at the sudden wet heat and pressure, at his newly fragile hold on his own orgasm. He threw his head back automatically but then had the bright idea to actually watch this. He laid there, gasping, as he met Gilbert’s brilliant crimson eyes. He was driving him crazy with his lips secure around his length and pulsing suction. Matthew tried to reach a hand down to touch Gilbert’s head, to hold on to something as the man slowly bobbed on him, tongue working against him, but Alistair held him still. At a loss to do anything else, he started babbling. “Oh, God. _So_ good, Gilbert _please,_ I can’t, I’ve never—“

Alistair pulled his head back kissed him and Matthew was helpless to do anything but arch his back and make desperate, pleased sounds into his mouth. When Gilbert gently massaged his balls at the same time his tongue flicked over that _one spot_ on the underside of his dick, Matthew had to turn his head to the side to beg, “Please, can I come? Please, please, sir, can I come? Gilbert’s so— _Alistair_ , please, I need—can I--?”

“Not yet, baby.” Matthew sobbed his frustration, but dug his nails into his own palms, grit his teeth, and tried to think of _anything_ beyond how much he wanted to come down Gilbert’s throat. _Doing my taxes. Going back to America. Sitting through a staff meeting. Disposing of dead bodies_. It worked, but barely.

“ _So good_ , Mattie. Yer doin' so well, baby,” Alistair said, kissing his cheek and neck as a hand ran soothingly down his side, like _praising him_ would actually help him with his control. Still, he flushed at the words, happy to have pleased him.

Gilbert chose _then_ of course to pull off of him with a gasp, not of exertion, but realization. “Mattie!”

“Hm?” he mumbled, at a loss for normal speech right then.

“If no one’s ever gone down on you bare, does that mean no one’s ever rimmed you?”

Matthew was pretty sure his brain broke, at best managing to say a very graceful, “Uhg?”

Alistair pulled back from him and released his wrists. “Ye can move, Mattie. But answer his question.”

Matthew licked his lips and leaned up to rest on his elbows so he could see them both easily. They were both staring at him like they were fearing his answer but he said truthfully, “No one’s ever brought it up before?”

Gilbert and Alistair looked at each other like this was the most ridiculous thing they had ever heard. Alistair turned back to him and said, hands moving absently on his torso like he couldn’t _not_ touch him, “Let me get this straight. Ye went three years without havin’ sex. Ye never had anyone taste yer dick before now. _And_ no one’s ever eatin’ ye out?”

Matthew felt his embarrassment rise and looked away from them, shoulders rounding a little. “I said I didn’t have a lot of experience.”

“I didn't mean it as a criticism of ye, baby boy,” Alistair hastened to say, kissing his temple. “We just…”

“We had hoped that the other people you had been with had done everything they could to take care of you, even if it was only for one night. That you had the chance to know what it felt like. And you knew we were horrified that you went so long without sex. That won’t happen again as long as you’re with us, Mattie.” Gilbert, who was resting on his elbows between Matthew’s still spread legs, kissed along the sensitive skin of his thighs. His body still felt heavy with want from his oh-so-close brush with an orgasm. Just the light touch of Gilbert’s mouth to his skin there made his hips relax enough to allow his legs to open wider and drew a small sigh from his lips. Gilbert smirked at him, but was too obviously pleased at his reaction to make Matthew self-conscious over it. “If you want, I would be happy do it.”

“He really would,” Alistair said, pressing light, affectionate kisses down Matthew’s face towards his mouth. “Gilly likes performing oral sex. It would help prepare ye fer us, too.”

“Well…” Matthew paused to allow Alistair a short, sweet kiss on his lips. He moved then so Matthew could see Gilbert, watching them with that familiar lost look in his eyes. “…If you really wouldn’t mind, I’m curious about what it feels like?”

Gilbert grinned at him and sat up. “Turn over, baby.”

Matthew leaned forward enough to kiss him lightly since it felt like it had been a long time since he’d done that and said, “Yes, Daddy.”

Gilbert’s breath caught but he didn’t kiss him again. Matthew moved to get on his hands and knees as Alistair said, “Yer playin’ with fire there.”

Matthew met his eyes and shot him a look that hopefully conveyed that he knew that and was doing it deliberately. Alistair raised his eyebrows and smiled at him, surprised but approving. Gilbert said in a rasping voice, “Head down, Mattie.”

He was a little nonplused at the order, but obeyed nonetheless, going to his elbows. He flushed as he imagined what this position looked like, with Matthew basically offering his ass for Gilbert to do as he pleased with. Gilbert gripped his ass and pulled his cheeks apart, exposing him. When he nipped at Matthew’s tailbone, Alistair said, “If ye can come from just him eatin’ ye out, then ye have me permission ta do so.”

Uh, oh.

It started slowly at first, Gilbert lightly licking over his entrance. It was a strange, but not unpleasant sensation. When he blew softly on the now wet area, a shock of cold and pleasure went through him, making him jolt, and he knew his hole had tightened at the feeling.

Then Gilbert actually got started.

“ _Oh!_ ” Matthew gasped as Gilbert laid his mouth against him. He would say that he was making out with his asshole, but Gilbert rarely kissed him that gently. It felt good.

“ _Holy shit!”_ He cried as Gilbert sucked at him, licked over him, carefully grazed his teeth against him. Okay, he _definitely_ got the appeal. He pressed his ass against his face, silently asking for more even as Gilbert’s hands held him still.

Matthew shouted wordlessly into the mattress, bit down on the sheet to keep from screaming, and balled his hands into fists when Gilbert slipped his tongue inside him and started fucking him with it. Matthew’s dick was leaking when Gilbert’s hands moved just a little on him to stretch his hole open wider and he begged, “ _Please, please_ , don’t stop. I want it, I want it, please, Daddy, don’t--.”

At the sound of his chosen title, Gilbert groaned, the vibration from the sound putting Matthew _so close_. “Gil, I’m so close. Please make me come, Daddy. _Please, I—“_

Matthew doesn’t quite know what Gilbert did to tip him over, but a second later he was coming, screaming as pleasure seized his body, emptied his balls, and whited-out his vision.

Gilbert was rubbing Matthew’s thighs and pressing light kisses to his ass when he was aware again, only seconds having passed. Matthew whimpered quietly and felt Gilbert smile against his skin. “Oh, I liked that.”

“Ye do look pleased with yerself. Tha’ was beautiful,” Alistair said, sounding like he was beside Gilbert. Matthew straightened his arms and looked behind him. Alistair was kissing along Gilbert’s jawline and Matthew realized it was probably aching after that. Matthew twisted his body to be sitting in front of them. Gilbert was beaming at him when Alistair kissed his lips, visibly deepened the kiss, tasting Matthew on his mouth and…that was surprisingly arousing.

Gilbert seemed to think so, too, hands coming up to grope his husband and press them tighter together, a surprised sound rising from his chest. Maybe Alistair had never done that before. Gilbert pulled away laughing after a moment. “Not that I don’t _really_ appreciate the enthusiasm, Scottie, but now you have to brush your teeth before kissing Mattie, too.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Matthew said. He picked himself up so he was kneeling again and leaned in to kiss first Alistair, briefly. “Thank you for letting me come, sir.”

Then he turned to Gilbert and kissed him hard, not shying away from him in the least. When he pulled back, he said, “ _Thank you_ for making me come, Daddy.”

“Unbelievable,” Alistair murmured, kissing Matthew’s cheek as Gilbert claimed his mouth again. “Still wanna be fucked by both of us, baby?”

Gilbert let him answer. Breathing heavily, he said, “Yes, but can I change my request a little?”

“Of course,” Alistair said, Gilbert just humming his assent as he kissed his cheek.

Matthew hesitated, biting his lip since this was definitely one of his more embarrassing kinks, one that he was still mortified Lovino knew about. But since they were in this situation…

“What do you want, Mattie?” Gilbert prompted, tensing a little and Matthew realized he was making them nervous.

“Couldyoufuckmebareback?” he spit out as fast as he could.

Alistair blinked at him but grinned. Gilbert frowned at him. “ _Liebling_ , English is not my first language or even my second. Can you say that again, slowly?”

Matthew blushed and sat down on his heels. He couldn’t bring himself to look at them but took a deep breath and tried again. “Could you please fuck me without a condom? Or, at least, come inside me without one? I’ve always wanted to know what that felt like, to feel…well, you get the picture.” He cut himself off, not wanting to reveal more than that about himself. “I understand if you say no, of course! It would probably be weird to fuck someone with your husband’s come already—“

“Matthew,” Gilbert said, sitting like his knees couldn’t hold him anymore and sounding shaken. “I am literally so hard right now, I don’t know how I’m conscious.”

“Oh, baby boy, not only are we willin’ ta feck ye bare, we both like fuckin’ a hole already wet with spend. We’ve never gone bare with anyone but ourselves since we met, so we had ta wait ta get hard again ta do it. But ta be able ta just go at it, with ye no less…” Alistair shivered but motioned Matthew over so he wouldn’t be near the cooling mess of his own come.

“We were going to wait until like date six or seven to bring out this kink because we didn’t want to scare you off but for _you_ to bring it up?” Gilbert let out a long breath, eyes taking him in with renewed hunger. “Have I thanked you for agreeing to be our boyfriend? Because I am so fucking grateful you said yes.”

Matthew was shocked but _very_ happy with this turn of events. Alistair said impatiently as he crawled between Matthew’s legs, “Yeah, wha’ he said. Where’s tha lube?”

“I’ll get it, _Sch_ _ätzchen._ Now, ask Mattie for what you really want.”

Alistair shot an unfriendly look at Gilbert. “Why’d ye bring that up?”

Gilbert rolled his eyes at him as he walked out of the room. “You brought up my daddy kink and look how that worked out. Maybe Matthew won’t mind. You should ask him.”

Matthew lightly touched Alistair’s face to draw his attention to him. “Ask me what, Alistair? You both have to tell me what you want, too. I think I made it clear earlier that I need things spelled out for me when it comes to this relationship stuff. So, what is it you want from me?”

Alistair sighed but held Matthew’s hand against his face and kissed his palm. “I want a lot of things from ye, _leannan_ , but wha Gilly’s referrin’ ta is I like tha feelin’ of a man in me mouth when he’s still soft. I would be careful, but can I suck ye until yer hard again while gettin’ ye ready ta take me?”

Matthew furrowed his brow, wondering why this would have been an issue. “Sure. I mean, yes, if you want to. That’s not something I think I would have a problem with in the future, either.”

Alistair smiled widely at him, the happiness on his face from this small thing warming something in Matthew’s chest. He kissed Matthew once before pulling back and looking at his briefs with some disgust.

“Let me,” Matthew said, pulling the fabric from his hips and carefully pealing it down his thighs, releasing an erection that looked painful. Matthew _had_ been on the receiving end of damn near all the attention. Plus, Alistair knew what he tasted like. Matthew looked up from Alistair’s cock to meet his eyes, raising his eyebrows and parting his lips in a silent offer.

Alistair laughed shakily, running gentle fingers over Matthew’s lips. “Not right noo, Mattie. I think we both are too keen on me comin’ up yer arse fer me ta risk spilling in yer pretty mouth.”

“ _Why_ did we put the lube in a drawer in the bathroom?” Gilbert asked, striding into the room.

Alistair rolled his eyes, turning over to pull his underwear completely off and tossing it away. “Because ye wanted shower sex before tha party an’ I like putting things away.”

“You could have left it in the shower, Scottie.” Gilbert said, pushing his boxer briefs down and off with a hiss.

“I didn't want ta risk blindly reaching fer shampoo an’ pourin’ lube over me head _again_ , Gilly.”

“That happened _one time_.” Gilbert climbed into bed and gave Alistair the bottle, kissing his cheek.

Alistair looked at Matthew, clearly exasperated. “It happened twice, Mattie.”

“When was the other time? My place, three years ago, and…?”

“Kabul, Gilbert.”

Gilbert winced. “I don’t remember much of Kabul.”

Alistair sighed but kissed Gilbert’s cheek in reply. “I know, love.” Alistair leaned down to kiss Matthew briefly. “Wha’ can ye do, Mattie?”

Then he pulled away and started coating his fingers in lube. Matthew pretended to think about it before saying, “Well, keep lube and shampoo in different, designated spots in the shower for easy access but to also avoid lathering with the stuff. Leaving multiple bottles around the house might help stop the game of _Where is the Lube Today_. Also, please fuck me.”

Gilbert and Alistair gaped at him before Gilbert started laughing, laying down to cuddle against Matthew like he didn’t still have a huge, insistent erection. Alistair grinned and shook his head at him, asking, “Have I told ye I like ye?”

“You might have mentioned it.” Alistair shook his head but finally set the lube aside.

“Yer wish…” He laid between Matthew’s legs and oh-so-carefully took his still recovering dick in his mouth. At the same time, he pushed a finger into him.

Matthew sighed in relief at the intrusion, relaxed from Gilbert’s earlier ministrations and his recent orgasm. Apparently noting this, Alistair added another finger in short order and started ever so lightly sucking on him. _That_ brought a sound to his throat, because while the warmth of his mouth was certainly pleasant, he was still sensitive. Matthew could quickly see how this had the potential to be too much but Alistair was careful and attentive. He made shocks of pleasure arc up his spine and to his fingertips, but it never occurred to Matthew to stop him.

When Alistair brushed his prostate with his ever-working fingers, Matthew cried out and felt his dick make a valiant and ultimately successful effort to rejoin proceedings. Alistair groaned around him, closing his eyes finally as he continued. Gilbert kissed Matthew’s cheek, getting his attention. “He likes tasting how a man gets hard,” he said, reaching down to affectionately caress Alistair’s cheek.

Alistair then rubbed at his prostate, probably on purpose, and Matthew moaned, long and low. He felt himself get harder at that and when Alistair opened his eyes again to stare up at him, Matthew could read the base satisfaction and triumph in them. Matthew reached down and ran his fingers through his hair, not pulling but just to touch him. He also realized that he could be multitasking, so he turned his head to kiss Gilbert and reached with his free hand to rub Gilbert’s dick.

Gilbert ended the kiss with a smile. “Oh no you don’t.” He took Matthew’s hand and pressed it above his head, retraining him a little. “Behave.”

Matthew was panting a little now. “I’ll be good, Daddy.”

Gilbert shot him a dry, unamused look. “Being good in bed is not the same as behaving.”

Matthew grinned at him, before closing his eyes and moaning again as Alistair pushed another finger into him and sucked him to full hardness. His hand tightened involuntarily in his hair and Matthew had an apology on his lips until Alistair groaned and took him just a little deeper. Matthew licked his lips and asked, “Do you like getting your hair pulled, sir?”

Alistair pulled off of him, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and answered, “If I’m goin’ down on someone, yes. In other cases, only a bit.”

“Okay.” Matthew moaned and, since Alistair was no longer in danger of choking, started to move his hips in time with the hand opening him up. He wasn’t as desperate to be fucked as he had been a day or so ago, but it still felt amazing.

It was only a few moments more until he said, “I’m ready.”

“Not yet,” Alistair said, before twisting a fourth finger into him and making his back arch.

“Alistair, what—“

“If I’m takin’ ye bare, Mattie, I’m gonna be damn sure ye can take me without bein’ hurt.”

Gilbert kissed his forehead and added, “We can negotiate games that play with pain later, but _ever_ actually hurting you is a hard limit for us. If we at any point do something that seriously hurts you, we need you to tell us, okay?”

“Yes, okay. I-I don’t want to hurt you either,” Matthew said, pressing a kiss to Gilbert’s neck and meeting Alistair’s eyes.

What felt like an eternity (but was only a couple minutes) later, Matthew, at his wits end, begged, “ _Please_ , sir, _fuck me_. I’m ready, I promise. Alistair, please, I want you.”

“Okay, baby.” Matthew’s sigh of relief was a little dramatic but bloody well _earned_ by that point. “How do ye want me?”

As long as his dick got in him in the next sixty seconds, Matthew didn’t care. “Whatever you want is fine. I’m not picky.”

Alistair stared at him for a second before saying, “Hands and knees, Mattie. Fer now.”

Matthew wasn’t sure he’d gotten to his knees faster in his life. He heard Alistair fiddling with the lube bottle and barely kept from screaming his impatience and need. Thankfully, it was only ten seconds later that Alistair _finally_ started pushing into him slowly. While Matthew groaned in ecstasy from the heat and feel of him, Alistair was letting off a long stream of curses that most certainly did not sound like English. Gilbert, watching enraptured from the side, asked, “You okay there, _Sch_ _ätzchen_?”

“ _HessofeckintightandbloodyperfectImgonnacomesofeckinfastohmygod!”_ was what Alistair managed, Matthew not really able to decipher the words at the moment and Gilbert was probably generally at a loss to understand that, especially with the accent.

“…This is a good thing?”

“ _Yes!”_

“Oh, that’s good.”

Matthew wanted to demand that he move, but had enough reason left in him to realize that demanding something of Alistair would likely not go in his favor. So he arched into him, lowered his head, and asked, “Please fuck me, sir.”

Alistair gripped his hips tightly, but managed to grit out through clinched teeth, “Alright. Tell me when ye get close. Ye still need me permission ta come.”

Matthew shivered at the reminder, the warning, and nodded.

It was obvious that Alistair at least _tried_ to start slow, wanting to give Matthew time to adjust to him or maybe to get desensitized to the feeling himself, but Matthew wasn’t having it. He met every stroke, didn’t bother trying to silence his sounds of enjoyment and need, clinched around him, and _begged_ him.

It took maybe three minutes for Alistair to cave and give Matthew the pounding he wanted. His pleas for more switched to manta of _thank you, thank you, thank you_.

Alistair eventually cursed and pulled out of him slowly. Before Matthew could protest, he ordered, voice strained and dark, “On yer back.”

Matthew’s eyes widened but he obeyed, quickly putting a pillow beneath his hips because he remembered Alistair had liked that before. He was rewarded with a tight smile as Alistair leaned over him, covering most of his body with his. “Good boy,” he said before entering him again and claiming his mouth in a harsh kiss.

It didn’t take long after that for Matthew to pant, hands holding on to his back for dear life, “Close, I’m close. Please, please, can I—“

Alistair smiled slowly, evilly at him as he fucked him harder, but said nothing. Matthew was screaming, nearly out of his mind, but he knew he couldn’t come, not yet. He tried again, sobbing, “ _Please_ , sir, may I come?”

“Tha’s it, Mattie. Ye have ta ask fer wha’ ye want,” Alistair said in his ear, breaths gasping and with a low groan rising in his chest. He pulled back a little to see him and said through his teeth, “Come fer me, baby.”

That was all it took for Matthew come, opening his mouth to scream but his vocal cords failed and it was soundless, wordless as he finally let go. He distantly heard Alistair mutter and groan, hips stilling pressed against him and a hot, fluid warmth filling him. Matthew knew what that was, knew Alistair had come inside him, marked him in that way, and his voice came back online to release a high-pitched whine.

He writhed as his orgasm ended, mouth sucking in quick breaths and eyes blinking into focus. Alistair was kissing his neck, hands running calming lines down his sides, as he said quietly, “So good, Mattie. Ye were feckin’ perfect fer me. How’d we get so lucky, huh? Beautiful, amazing—“

“Alistair?” Matthew queried, bringing a hand up to run through his sweat-soaked hair.

He rose above him immediately, eyes meeting as he shifted his hips back to slip out of him. He shushed him gently at Matthew’s noise of discomfort but said, “Yes, gorgeous?”

Matthew kissed him softly and whispered, “I still feel you inside me.”

Alistair closed his eyes and shuddered at that, but pulled away from him. He looked at Matthew like he was the best thing in the world then he looked at Gilbert, hands on Matthew’s hips. He swallowed, his throat clicking with it, and said to his husband, “He can take ye noo.”

Matthew looked at Gilbert and found him staring at them both, lust clear on his face. Matthew reached a hand towards him and asked, Alistair still between his legs, “How do you want me, Daddy?”

Gilbert smiled slowly at him and fuck but he should really be more careful about when he said that. Gilbert didn’t take his hand but lightly ran his fingers down Matthew’s palm and along his arm as he came forward. He kissed Alistair first, more gently than Matthew had seen him kiss either of them yet, then looked back to Matthew and said, “A lot of ways, baby. But let’s get you used to me first, get you hard again. Hands and knees, Matthew.”

Oh, God.

Matthew moved to obey him, hissing and shuddering at the movement. Alistair, who had been moving off the bed, and Gilbert froze at that. Then Alistair was by his side almost immediately. “Are ye sore? Did I hurt ye?”

Matthew quickly shook his head. “N-no, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure, Matthew? We don’t have to do this. If you’re hurt, I don’t want to and risk hurting you more.” Gilbert said, running a hand down his back and pressing a kiss to his hair.

Matthew appreciated the concern but couldn’t help flushing and ducking his head. “Thank you but, _really_ , I’m fine. It…It’s not pain. Alistair’s…” _Please don’t make me say it._

Alistair loosed a startled, happy laugh. He tilted Matthew’s chin up and kissed him. When he pulled back, his eyes were alight with pleasure and he said, “Yer precious, Mattie. Ye’ve been so good. Come whenever ye want fer tha rest of tha night.”

Matthew inhaled sharply but wasn’t stupid enough to question it. “Thank you, sir.” With that, he turned away and got on his hands and knees again for Gilbert.

* * *

After a _much needed_ shower, Gilbert was once more giving him a back massage. Considering that he’d managed to actually ride him to the point of overworking his back and leg muscles, Matthew wasn’t going to stop him any time soon. He was determined to not fall asleep immediately either. Matthew breathed in the smell of fresh sheets and relaxed, sighing, “Talk to me.”

“About wha’, _leannan_?” Alistair asked, sitting beside him with his back to the headboard and playing with his hair.

“Anything. I want to know more about you.”

“You need to ask us actual questions, Mattie. We’ll ask you, too, since I don’t know much about you and refuse to look at the file Scottie has.” Gilbert rubbed at a sensitive spot on his lower back and Matthew hissed.

He twisted a little to look up at his redheaded boyfriend. “What’s in the file?”

“Nothin’ much personal since I couldn't find a damn thing about ye, which is very impressive, by tha way.” Alistair assured him, now almost petting his head. Matthew didn’t mind; he liked the attention and the touch was pleasant. “Mostly what I could gather from yer work interactions, wha’ people thought of you, how ye operated. Stuff like that. Wha’s in yer files on tha four of us? I know ye have them.”

Matthew hummed. “You don’t know?”

The hands on him stilled and Gilbert said, “Mattie…”

“I don't know everything. Those were some of yer most protected electronic files. I saw that ye had them, but not what they held without alertin' ye.”

Matthew wiggled impatiently under Gilbert, who was sitting on his heels over Matthew’s thighs, and leaned up to lay a light kiss on Alistair’s hip before settling down. “Nothing much. What I could confirm about your business partners and dealings, what some of what you all specialized in, where you primarily operated. What I have was difficult to find. I couldn’t even confirm anyone’s gender except for Gilbert’s and that was through chance.”

“Tha’s good,” Alistair said, hands already moving on him again.

Gilbert leaned over to kiss his back and said, “A lot of what we can do relies on no one knowing much of anything about us, Mattie. We can handle ourselves, but it’s hard to kill someone you know absolutely nothing about.”

Matthew huffed. “If you’re looking for an assurance that I won’t tell people, you have it. I understand the need for secrecy and I meant it when I said earlier that I don’t want you hurt.”

“That’s not what I meant, Matthew,” Gilbert said, biting him a little. “We look out for people’s files on us because we are wary of just how much of what we do is discoverable, how it could be traced back to us. It wasn’t a comment about you.”

“Back up a moment,” Alistair said, tensing and brushing Matthew’s hair from his face so he could see his eyes. “What do ye mean about secrecy? Did ye want ta keep our relationship a secret?”

Matthew sighed, closed his eyes, and said, “Do I want to? No, of course not. I’m so happy to be with you I can’t see straight. But you were right when you told me why you weren’t wearing your rings at the party earlier, Alistair. We could be used against each other. Or, more likely, I would be used against you. There’s the added factor that I’m still considered an outsider in Italy, barely tolerated and mostly feared as Lovino’s Right Hand. But if people ever start to question if my loyalty is to you both or him, I’ll be the first one on everyone’s hit list. Gil, since you don’t know, nearly everyone hates me back home. If given an excuse to kill me, they’ll take it.”

They were both quiet for a long moment before Gilbert whispered, “Oh, fuck.”

Matthew blinked his eyes opened and twisted a little to look at Gilbert. His face was just edging into something that looked like horror. “What? What’s wrong?”

He looked to Alistair and saw him midway through running a hand down his face. “Tha dance, Mattie.”

“Oh, that.” Matthew said, relaxing and laying back down. “I _was_ wondering why you did it…? You didn’t need grand gestures to get me back into bed with you, you know.”

Gilbert made a noise of frustration but continued putting gentle, steady pressure on his muscles. “No, we didn’t.”

“We had a lot of reasons fer tha dance, Mattie. We knew ye were gonna avoid us—“

“Tonio told us about the vow of celibacy thing,” Gilbert interjected, pinching Matthew’s ass lightly and making him giggle.

“…We also knew we had ta find a way ta talk ta ye without us cornering ye an’ being suspicious. Tha dances very clearly put ye under our protection, so if anyone fucks wit ye they know their fuckin' wit us. We _hoped_ it would signal that we wanted more than jus' sex from ye. It…was a little premature, but we also wanted ta make sure ye were free fer tha night.”

“That’s a delicate way to say we’re jealous bastards and didn’t think we would have been able to watch someone else try to fuck you tonight without doing anything about it.”

 _Good Lord. A little premature, he says_. Matthew shook his head. “Any other reason?”

“...Ye looked very nice and we wanted ta dance with ye at least once.”

 _Well, they certainly had a list_. “Did anyone make a comment to you afterwards about it?”

They hesitated at the question. Gilbert said, “No.”

Alistair replied with, “One drunk started ta, then immediately stopped when he met me eyes. A few tried ta get me ta say what our relationship was or get me ta dance. Why do ye ask, Mattie?”

 _Of course_ they _didn’t get snide comments because they are the fucking Horsemen. Ugh._ “Because the general consensus was that either Lovino ordered me into your beds or you paid me to sleep with you. They reacted predictably. It was like just because I had slept with you, nothing else about me mattered.”

“…Are you serious?” Gilbert asked, so tense now he was damn near shaking.

“Mattie, is tha’ why ye put tha Cartinelli heir on tha floor?” Alistair asked as he shifted a little towards Gilbert.

Matthew vaguely recalled Pestilence’s (Tonio’s?) warning and dismissed it. It wasn’t a big deal, so he shrugged and said, “Partially. He had it coming for what he said and did, honestly, so the Family won’t retaliate from it. In fact, we got some good information out of him, so it was worth it."

Gilbert started massaging his shoulders again and Matthew moaned a little from it. _Damn_ that was good. “I wasn’t able to watch you do it from across the room, Mattie, but I heard that how you put him in a hold was very well done.” He kissed the back of Matthew’s neck and he shivered.

“What did he say ta ye, Mattie?” Alistair asked, playing with his hair once more.

“Usual disrespectful shit about Lovi being bi. Typical thing about me being a whore. Called me an interesting name. Suggested he would own me in a month. You know, stupid stuff. What got me to physically hurt him was the fact that the idiot tried to touch me. Hell, once his bodyguard reports back, the Cartinellis will be falling over themselves to make amends. Ooh, right there, Gil.”

“He tried to touch you, baby?” Gilbert asked quietly and it wouldn’t hurt to tell him this. This was something people would tell their boyfriends, right?

“Yeah. Nothing much, just my chest, but it was beyond disrespectful. Alistair, can you explain?” Matthew asked, groaning a little as Gilbert moved his hands down both sides of his spine.

“Gilly, Matthew’s considered somethin’ of a bogeyman in Italy. Absolutely _no one_ would dare touch him casually except fer Lovino himself and Matthew’s second, sparingly,” Alistair explained calmly.

“I see. What did he call you, _Liebling_? You said it was interesting…?”

“Hmm, promise you won’t be mad? Lovi was pissed when I told him later.”

“We can’t control how we’ll feel, but we promise not to do anything about it right now,” Gilbert answered easily, now gently pressing the knots out of his lower back.

“Fair enough. The direct translation for what he called me is 'the Horsemen’s personal fucktoy,' which isn’t exactly graceful but whatever. We have him right where we want him.”

“If you say so, Mattie,” Gilbert said, kissing his back. Matthew heard the sound of him squeezing more hotel lotion into his hands and warming it. “But did we put you in danger by dancing with you publically?”

Gilbert put his hands on his right thigh and slowly began massaging that, too. Matthew answered with a sigh, “Probably not as much as I thought at first. I thought the only purpose was to get me in bed for one more night. I didn’t see it as you putting me under your protection, but other Families might have. That would make them hesitate if not throw any plans out of the window. I also, by putting Marcello on the ground, I reminded him and everyone watching both who and what I am, that fucking you doesn’t change that about me or the respect I demand. If they need another reminder, I’m more than happy to beat it into them.”

“Sounds good ta me, baby boy,” Alistair said, still petting him.

“I do have a question, though. If who you are is Lovino Vargas’ Right Hand, then what are you?”

 “A monster.”

He heard Alistair’s sharp intake of breath and summoned the effort to look up at him. He was staring down at him, an unreadable intense look in his eyes as he said, “Tha’s good, _leannan_. We’re monsters, too.”

Matthew smiled knowingly up at him and Alistair continued with, “Noo, wha’s yer favorite color?”

Matthew grinned and said, teasing, “Not in that file?”

“Hey, I know this one! It’s red.” Matthew moaned as a spot of tension was worked out of his leg.

Alistair frowned at Gilbert. “How’d ye know tha’?”

“Magic, Scottie.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “I told him in the bathroom.”

“The magic of Mattie’s mouth, Scottie.”

“Why are ye like this, Gilly?” Alistair asked, long suffering but affectionate.

 “You know you love it.”

“What’s your favorite colors?” Matthew asked, both wanting to know and to get them back on track.

“Green fer me. Blue fer him.” Gilbert shifted to start on his other thigh.

“Wait a second,” Matthew said, pulling himself fully back to awareness. “Does this count as a date?”

“Nope,” Gilbert said. “We need to take you out somewhere for it to be a date. Or at least plan on doing something besides sex and food when we need it.”

“Not tha’ there’s anythin’ wrong with tha’ plan, of course,” Alistair said, smile evident in his voice.

“Of course. We can figure out the minutia tomorrow or something, but I think we both want to share your first date with you. Our schedules, and I’m sure yours, are a mess, but we’ll find time. Would you be alright with that? And seeing us individually when you can?”

Matthew was smiling so much, his cheeks were beginning to hurt. “Sure. Lovi was a little pissed when I told him I hadn’t taken a day off in three years—“

“You _what_?”

“—and will probably ship me off to see you both as much as he can.”

“…I think there needs ta be a conversation at some point about what ye just said, Mattie, but that can wait. What do ye like ta do in yer spare time?”

Matthew huffed a laugh. “What’s that?”

There was a beat of silence when Gilbert said, sounding strained. “We’re also going to let that one slide for now, but personally I would like to express concern. What do you like to do? What do you do for fun or that you enjoy?”

“Hmm, well I like things that allow me to multitask. I listen to music or, if something I’m doing isn’t complicated, an audiobook. I like to cook, especially breakfast. When I come see you, I’ll make pancakes.” Gilbert lifted his hands from him and Matthew twisted onto his back to be able to look at both of them. “I don’t have a lot of experience with it, but I think I like to cuddle. Can you help me out?” He asked, holding a hand out to Gilbert and reaching up to find Alistair's.

Gilbert smiled at him, shaking his head a little, and took his hand, “Yeah, I think we can.”

Alistair scooted down, saying, “Budge up, _leannan_.” Matthew sat up as Alistair laid beside him, Gilbert situating himself behind Matthew. He used the hand he was still holding to urge Matthew onto his side, Gilbert spooning him while they both faced and reached for Alistair. He moved towards them and Matthew inched forward a little to rest his head on his chest. Gilbert pushed closer still and Alistair leaned up to meet him in a kiss.

Matthew smiled at the sound, Gilbert’s fingers now intertwined with his, and when they pulled away from each other he said, “Enough about me. Tell me about you.”

* * *

Thankfully, no phone call woke them this time. They hadn’t gotten to sleep until very late the night before, in part because they hadn’t gotten back to the hotel room until close to 02:00. Sex that good took a long time and they had talked for as long as Matthew was able to keep his eyes open. Alistair finally said, bemused smile on his lips and voice gentle, “Just sleep, baby. We’ll be here in tha mornin’.” It had taken maybe seconds after that for Matthew to drift into sleep.

Now he blearily squinted his eyes open and groaned a little as he shifted into motion. He was lying face down and with his leg slung out in front of him, his arms wrapped around a pillow. There was a solid wall of heat to his back, a press of lips to the nape of his neck, and Matthew turned in place to find Alistair against him, looking no more awake than he was. “Good morning,” he mumbled and kissed his lips briefly.

“Mornin’, Mattie.” Alistair hugged him closer and nuzzled his neck a little, apparently in preparation of going back to sleep. It sounded like a good idea to Matthew, but they were missing someone.

“Where’s Gil?”

“Mphf, dunno. Sleeps max five hours unless hurt. Left a little while ago.”

“Okay,” Matthew said, relaxing back into sleep with one last kiss to Alistair’s head and… _five hours!_ “What time is it?” He asked, suddenly much more awake.

“Dunno. _Sleep_ , Mattie.”

“Hon, I have a meeting at 13:30.”

“…Oh. Oh, fuck.” Alistair sat up, alert now as he looked for the clock in the bedroom. “It’s 11:40.”

Matthew relaxed. “I have a little more time, then. Sorry for waking you.” He kissed Alistair’s shoulder in apology.

Alistair turned and kissed him back. “Tha’s okay, Mattie. We have ta talk about things before ye leave an’ should eat.”

Matthew pouted, just a little, as he said, “So no morning sex?”

Alistair grinned sharply at him, “Well, let’s not get hasty.” He tackled him lightly to the bed, causing Matthew to release a loud peal of laughter in surprise and delight.

Alistair kissed the smile from his face and the bedroom door opened. Gilbert stuck his head in, smiling, and said, “Good morning, you two.”

“Gilly! Come join us. Morning sex was suggested before talkin’ an’ ye know ye love mornin’ sex,” Alistair said, grinning at his husband, who seemed to be clothed in a t-shirt at least.

“Yeah, Gil,” Matthew said, wicked smile on his lips. “I want to know how much of your dick I can take in my mouth before choking.”

Someone who was _not_ Gilbert started coughing, ironically choking on something in the other room. Gilbert looked pained as he said, “We have a guest.”

“He-hello!” A voice called from the other room, still not quite working and Matthew felt his face heat. “Was that Ghost? Good morning!”

“Oh, my God,” he groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

“Good mornin’,” Alistair called. “Go away.”

“Rude, Alistair. That is no way to talk to a friend.” Matthew recognized Famine’s voice.

“It is when ye cockblock me,” he shot back, begrudgingly amused.

“…Fair. I _wanted_ to debrief last night, but only Gilbert answered the door.” _Pestilence must be otherwise occupied_ , Matthew thought with a snicker. _Get it, Lovi!_

“Do you need me to go?” Matthew asked in a whisper. “Because I have no clothes.”

“No, Mattie,” Alistair whispered back. “If Antonio is not available either, then they can wait on us.”

“Ghost,” Gilbert said, getting his attention. “Do you need a robe?”

“If they’re not staying, no,” he answered truthfully.

Gilbert stared at him for a moment before pulling back his head and closing the door. Matthew heard him say, “Come back later.”

“ _When_ , exactly?”

Matthew said quietly to Alistair, “Lovi and I have to be at the same meeting. Tell them 13:00 or 13:15.”

Alistair sighed but rolled out of bed and strode towards the door. He pulled one of the doors open, apparently not giving a damn that he was naked. Matthew hid under the sheet as Alistair said, “13:15. Let yerself out.” Matthew peaked and saw Alistair grab Gilbert by the collar, haul him him into the bedroom, and shut the door with a bang.

“Scottie—“

“Our boyfriend just offered ta go down on ye until he choked. If he’s still up for it, I am _watching_ this, Gilbert.”

“Are they gone?” Matthew asked.

“They better be,” Alistair all but growled and Matthew heard a door close. “I’ll double check fer ye, baby.”

“Thank you!” Alistair walked out of the room and Matthew said, sitting up and looking at Gilbert, “Do you want me to blow you?”

“What kind of—yes, I do.”

Matthew glanced at the clock and winced. “It’s going to have to be quick.” He stood, walked over to where Gilbert was standing, and dropped to his knees on the plush carpet.

“I’ll help ye if ye want, Mattie,” Alistair said from the doorway, apparently having heard him.

Matthew focused on getting Gilbert’s jeans undone but smiled at the other man. “I’ve never done that before. Yes, please.”

“This is it,” Gilbert said, watching them with wide, wild eyes. “This is how I die.”

Matthew licked his lips, pulled Gilbert’s pants down as Alistair settled next to him, and got to work.

* * *

In the end, they _did_ manage to talk a bit and eat breakfast while waiting for one of Matthew’s people to bring him clothes and weapons. That had been a bit a security issue with Gilbert and Alistair’s people, especially when someone arrived at the same time to drop off Lovino’s stuff. They got it sorted out, Alicia ending up being escorted to both Lovino and Matthew by two of the Horsemen’s security team. His second had wiggled her eyebrows at him in greeting, to which he had only managed a mumbled _good morning, A._ His voice wasn’t completely shot but he _did_ sound a bit scratchy. Gilbert had convinced Matthew to wear one of his shirts while they waited and weren’t actively engaged in sex, his eyes following him with every movement. Matthew didn’t know why; the thing was far too big on him, barely covering his ass and hanging loose over his shoulders. He’d been wearing it under a robe when Alicia had arrived, probably would have hidden altogether if anyone but his second had been the delivery person, and she’d given the collar a significant look before leaving.

In the meantime, however, they hammered out some basic understanding of how the relationship was going to work. Open lines of communication were a must. They would only sleep with each other and Matthew promised to make an effort to see at least one of them every three weeks. Matthew wanted declare Italy as off limits for dating completely, but he agreed to revisit the topic after seeing how people reacted to the news he had finally slept with someone. They wouldn’t share each other’s names, Matthew making very clear that the only other person alive who knew Ghost by that name was Lovino. Gilbert wanted to give him extra security but Matthew vetoed that. He couldn’t visibly take help from them more than was professional or risk public opinion on him taking a turn for the worse. He _did_ agree to take a panic button once Alistair made one for him, but only after they explained that all the Horsemen carried them to let each other know there was an imminent threat to either themselves or each other. This one would be programmed just to send signals to Gilbert and Alistair and the tracking on it would only start when it was activated by Matthew. In an absolute crisis, it could be swallowed without seriously hurting him, so there’s that. They promised that if either of them pressed their button, Matthew would know, too.

Alistair also said that he would send to him an untraceable (“I can't even track this”) smart phone, a way for them to communicate personally without worrying about security. Matthew would be able to program it to only ever open to his fingerprints or, in an emergency, a voice command. Turns out that last was a kind of panic button, too, and Alistair looked sheepish as confirmed Matthew’s suspicions, but gave the same reason for the other one. When Matthew agreed to take it, Alistair grinned and said it should be waiting at his office by the time he got back to Italy. Matthew glared at him for that comment, but was too happy to be getting a worry-free way to talk to them to really make a fuss about it.

Matthew was dressed in his typical fashion, armed, and ready to go at 13:00, but he lingered. Alistair was dressed now, too, but in jeans and a casual shirt. They weren’t going anywhere for a while and could change later if needed. He had the thought to say, “Hey, Gil?”

“Hm?” Gilbert asked, hugging him like he wasn’t ready for Matthew to go either.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if we killed Leo after your brother doctors those files?”

“I’m not sure, depends on what they have on him. I haven’t asked him to do anything yet. Want me to use a different target?”

“Can you just hold off for a bit? I need to check out a tip we got from last night to be sure. I’ll send the answer over official channels.”

Alistair came up behind him and kissed his cheek. “Who’s yer source?”

Matthew smiled. “Marcello Cartinelli himself. His Family will do worse than kill him for what he told me.” He turned his head to kiss Alistair lightly, before pulling away from both of them with a sigh. “I have to go.”

“Text us when you get the phone, okay?” Gilbert said, stepping closer and kissing him one last time.

“We’re ‘W’ an’ ‘D’ in tha contacts,” Alistair said, not even allowing Matthew to draw a breath after Gilbert pulled away before kissing him, too.

Matthew walked towards the door with a breathless laugh. “I’ll talk to you two later, but I _really_ have to go. Don’t you have a meeting with Famine?”

Gilbert winced. “Yeah, we do.”

Matthew’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out and saw a text from Lovino.

**L: I don’t trust you to leave them so I’m coming to the door with P.**

Matthew frowned and Gilbert asked, “What is it?”

“Lovi didn’t trust me to be on time. I’m kinda offended; I’ve never been late to a meeting before.”

Alistair smirked. “He probably didn't trust us ta let ye be on time.”

That was plausible.

There was a knock at the door and Gilbert moved past him to answer it. Alistair used the opportunity to sneak in another kiss to his cheek. Fighting a smile, he whispered, “Alistair, I swear to God, if you don’t—“

The door opened and Matthew tried to make his face blank but was sure he failed. “Good afternoon!” Pestilence said, cheerful and wanting them to know it. He walked into the room and seemed completely unsurprised to find Matthew still there.

“Ghost.” Lovino said from the door, dressed neatly in a suit but eyes way too bright with satisfaction to mean anything but that he’d had a _really good, very messy_ night. He shook his head at him. In Italian, he said, “ _They_ wrecked _you, buddy.”_

 _“I now have two boyfriends._ ” Matthew informed him, brushing both Alistair’s and Gilbert’s hands in farewell as he walked to the door. He nodded at Pestilence and looked at said boyfriends one last time, allowing his mouth to twitch into a hint of a smile, before walking out the door. _“He did a number on you, too._ ”

They were heading down the hall as Lovino answered, “ _Yeah, no shit. I may or may not be seeing him again; he has my number. Also,_ seriously? _Your voice is shot, too?”_

Matthew shrugged and said dryly, _“My ass needed a break.”_

Lovino tripped over his own feet and started laughing uproariously, bracing himself against the wall. Famine came down the hall and looked at the both strangely. “Good afternoon. Something funny, Lovino?”

He straightened and wiped some tears from his eyes. “Ghost is hilarious.”

Famine looked even more confused but only said as they walked towards and past them to Alistair and Gilbert’s room, “Safe travels home.”

“Thanks,” Lovino said, as he continued down.

Matthew started to follow but heard Famine ask in French to themself, “ _I do wonder how much of him he was able to take…”_

Matthew glanced back at them, allowed a small smirk, and emphasized the roughness of his voice as he answered in the same language, “ _A fair bit_.”

Famine seemed to stumble at that, turning to look at him, but Matthew was already turning away, following Lovino towards and into the now waiting elevator. Famine started laughing before the doors closed.

“ _What did you say to them?”_ Lovino asked curiously.

“ _To mind their own business. A is waiting with a car downstairs. I would have been on time, Lovi.”_

_“I know you think that, but you didn’t see War and Death’s expressions when you walked out of the room without another word. They would have kept you there as long as possible.”_

Matthew sighed. “ _I know. We need to talk about my accumulated vacation time.”_

* * *

Matthew slouched in his chair, scrolling through the brief report filed by Alicia this morning as she and Ric gave their verbal reports on the ball to Lovino, having picked up chatter and tidbits of information about various attendees and their bodyguards while Matthew shadowed Lovino. Some people treat bodyguards like furniture and talk about all manner of things that they shouldn’t in front of them. Good guards are discrete, but they still talk amongst themselves sometimes about their charges. Alicia and Ric took advantage of their position to gain all sorts of information for future blackmail use. They also had gotten a good read of the room when various things happened.

“The guards knew first when things were going to shit, boss,” Ric told him.

“What about the others who knew not to drink?” Lovino asked, curious as to who they were.

“There were several groups who stuck only to water like we did, sir. Even if they abstained from alcohol as a rule and stuck to juice or soda, they were at least marginally affected,” Alicia said, causing Matthew to look up in surprise. “A list of water-only drinkers is included in my preliminary report.”

“They were waiting like we were for something to happen and seemed just as startled when it did,” Ric continued.

Matthew clicked through to find Alicia’s list and was marginally disturbed to see that it was very short but roughly covered all geographic regions with the exceptions of the Middle East and Russia. Ukrainians, South Africans, Kenyans, Ghanans and Chileans, groups based in Beijing, Mumbai, Tokyo, Bangkok, Melborune, Vancouver, New York, Panama City, and Rio de Janeiro…

They were the only group from the Mediterranean besides Famine and Pestilence. If they were planning on unleashing chaos in all these places, _everywhere_ , and these were the only groups they would help pick up the pieces…

“Ghost.” Lovino said, drawing his attention. All three of them were looking at him like he had grown a second head. “You’re pale.”

They had wanted him to have panic buttons and security.

“Apologies, sir. Please continue.”

“They were just about to explain how people reacted to your encounters with Death, War, and Cartinelli,” Lovino said slowly, eyes sharp and assessing.

He was dating War and Death.

Oh, God.

Matthew nodded and focused on Ric and Alicia, silently ordering them to continue. Ric cleared his throat and said, “Most were just interested in who a Horseman would dance with, sir. Those who knew your reputation were shocked that you let Death near you, let alone touch you.”

“They saw how he touched you and how you reacted. No one thought you were interested in sex, but now…” Alicia sighed. “They’ll probably try to manipulate you with it.”

Matthew raised his eyebrows at them minutely. “It has never worked in the past. Why do they think it will work now?”

Alicia and Ric exchanged a look and it was the former who said, “War, sir. Death could have just been a one-off, a dance that you couldn’t refuse. But the way he all but handed you to War, the looks they exchanged and how you reacted to them…”

“Where that route seemed sealed, sir, now it appears a path untaken.”

“Only the younger or foolish set thought the Boss would order you to them or that it made you weak. That thought was nipped in the bud when you held Marcello by the throat for touching you. Most were envious or a little afraid of how you got two Horsemen wrapped around your finger.”

Matthew only _just_ resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “They are most certainly not under my influence.”

All three of them stared at him. It was Lovino who said, “Ghost, they kissed your hand after a dance like they were in some romance novel. It was like they were _courting_ you, working to please _you_ , in front of everyone.”

Matthew wanted to deny it, but, considering what Gilbert and Alistair had said the night before, it was a little too accurate. When he didn’t say anything for a long moment, Alicia said, “Boss, they would glare at anyone they noticed were looking at you too long, especially after midnight.”

“I still don’t understand _why_ , but getting back to the point,” Matthew said, trying to steer the conversation towards things that he could control at the moment. He _would_ be talking to them about this jealousy thing, however. Horsemen or not, Matthew wasn’t going to change his habits just because they were jealous. Not that they had asked him to do anything differently but carry a couple of panic buttons, but that was a rule whether they liked it or not. “Did you hear anyone say anything about me being unable to do my job because I am with them? Did you hear anyone question my loyalty to Lovino?”

They all flinched at that. “No, sir,” Ric rushed to say.

“No, boss,” Alicia said, eyes a little unfocused as her mind worked to see the connections he did and why he asked the question.

“Ghost,” Lovino said, shaking his head. “You barely left my side the entire night. Anyone who questions your ability as my Right Hand just because you’re dating powerful figures is a fool.”

“Excuse me?” Alicia said, grin splitting her face. “ _Dating,_ boss?”

Matthew sighed again. “Yes, A. I now officially have two partners, significant others, who happen to be the Horsemen War and Death.”

Ric looked pained. “No offense, sir, and with all due respect…good luck with that.”

“Thanks,” Matthew said dryly. “We’re not actively hiding it, but it is something that is to be kept as quiet as possible. Lovino and I will be upping our security detail, however, with all in-house people.”

“Wait, what?” Lovino said, narrowing his eyes at him.

Matthew looked at him steadily. “Lovi, more people saw you kiss and leave with Pestilence than saw me climb onto the back of War’s motorcycle. Whether or not you see him again does not change the fact people will associate you with him now. Being connected to the Horsemen in any way is dangerous and we need to act accordingly.”

Lovino pouted at him a little but nodded. “Reasonable.”

“Anything else from the party besides the Cartinelli situation?”

“No, sir,” Alicia and Ric said. Lovino pursed his lips and shook his head, eyes tightening in remembered anger.

Matthew took a deep breath and said, “What you both need to know and are free to tell others is the Cartinelli disrespected both Lovino and I beyond tolerance. I only took physical action against him when he dared touch me without invitation.” Ric hissed in a breath. Alicia's face contorted with renewed anger.

“What does _not_ leave this room, however,” he leaned forward a bit, “is that we need all the information we have about the past four months at least of Leo’s business dealings and a complete a record as possible of his personal movements from the past year. Then we need to compare that to what we know of the Cartinelli Family. I know we have a file going, but we need to look for any clues hinting at instability and/or consultation with the Cartinellis.”

They stared at him and Lovino said, “Marcello crudely told Ghost they were expecting to take over Leo’s branch by the end of next month. I need to know _why_ my cousin is about to lose grasp of a vital section of our powerbase, how no one caught this before now, and how to prevent the power transfer.”

“Yes, sir,” Matthew said, something in him quickening at the assignment, at the hunt he was given. He looked at Ric. “Figure out how we’re going to rearrange security. The next month and change would have called for it even without the Horsemen.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, nodding with a determined edge to his face.

“Good work. Dismissed,” Lovino said and Ric immediately stood and left the room.

“A,” Matthew started when the door was closed. “We will be shifting through a majority of what we have on Leo and work to fill in the blanks on any information. Additionally, we need to start working on building a professional relationship with the Horsemen. We’ll be researching the best places for War’s garrison, educating ourselves about possible ins into the drug trade, and shoring up our defenses, electronic and otherwise. No one else can know about this.”  The short list of the Horsemen’s chosen allies was extremely concerning. They were going to need all the preparation in the world to weather the storm he feared was coming. Matthew was a pessimist, always expecting the worst, but it had kept them alive and he saw no reason to change his worldview.

She steeled her spine and hardened her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Lovino said, cracking his neck, “I’ll manage normal business operations and maintain appearances that nothing has changed. I’ll see what I can get from the other members of my family smart enough to know I’ll be the head of the organization. Thanks to you, we ask for favors so little that they will be falling over themselves to get in my good graces.”

“Alicia, did Famine send you those files?”

“Yes, Ghost.”

His lips curled. “Then let’s get to work.”

* * *

Hours later, a very tired Matthew stumbled into his office, barely managing to catch himself on a guest chair. He had warned his local security team and his secretary that he was expecting a package and, after scanning it, they had placed it on his desk. He would have gone straight home and to sleep, but he wanted this phone.

He didn’t bother to turn on a light as he moved through the familiar space, the streetlamps making it possible to see. His office was done in understated but modern black and chrome. He didn’t design it. Lovino paid an interior designer to get his spaces together and Matthew, overwhelmed at the ability to just _choose_ how multiple rooms would look, pointed to a picture of sleek but comfortable office space. The result was a cold but clean room with a solid wooden desk varnished black, a couple of black suede guest chairs in front of it, a matching wooden long table to the side that was for small meetings, complete with regular office chairs, and a miniature kitchenette with coffeemaker. There was a bookshelf, too, but Matthew used it for show-files and a couple of sturdy classics that he had never read. All of his more sensitive information kept in physical copies was stashed in his apartment or a couple of safe houses he had carefully established in the region. Everything else was electronic.

Matthew had very little in the way of knick-knacks on his desk, leaving it bare but for a desktop computer and a cup of pens since the damn things always managed to get away from him when he actually needed one. The box was there, unadorned and plain. Matthew took out a letter opener from his top drawer and carefully pealed open the box.

Inside, situated in Styrofoam, was an ordinary looking phone, not unlike the one Matthew had in his breast pocket. Still, he lifted it from the box, weighing it in his palm. Maybe it was a little heavier than usual?

Shrugging, Matthew turned it on and followed the on-screen prompts that Alistair had warned him about. He made his emergency code the same as his codename for one of his plans of last resort. Then, he was greeted with the words _hello, Ghost_ on screen and presented with a familiar interface.

He went to send a message, putting both W and D as recipients, and typed out:

**G: Hello, I was looking for my boyfriends and was wondering if you could help me find them?**

Almost immediately, little dots started dancing on screen. Matthew, exhausted and in the privacy of his dark office, grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’re so kinky, I’m SORRY. I had an actual (metaphorical) fight with Gilbert over how things would be portrayed. I *did* stop before he started running his mouth so, you know, small victories.  
> Please hit the kudos button and leave a comment!  
> The song for this chapter is "Smoke" by Pvris.


End file.
